


Hell Spawn

by Femalefonzie



Series: Gifts From Above [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (I’ll tag it anyway to be safe), (hint: its not the one you think), (is it Mpreg if said character can change their junk to accommodate?), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Caring Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Aziraphale have a baby and one side is surprisingly supportive, Crowley's Bentley (Good Omens), Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Heaven vs Hell, Implied Sexual Content, Kid Fic, M/M, Mpreg, One Big Happy Family, Please don’t let Michael sheen see this, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Softie Crowley (Good Omens), While the other side plots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-06-30 12:29:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 62,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19853206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Femalefonzie/pseuds/Femalefonzie
Summary: Over a year after the Almost Apocalypse, Crowley & Aziraphale find themselves in an unexpected (yet ineffable) situation. Luckily they now have a network of friends to rely on for support in dealing with everything that comes their way. They saved the world after all. Compared to that, how hard could having a baby possibly be?Well...it turns out extremely if that baby happens to be part angel and part demon.





	1. Prologue

Hastur hadn’t been inside A.Z. FELL AND Co. in the centuries it had been in existence and quite frankly he had no desire to come back once he completed the task at hand. 

There was a window back behind the store overlooking the alley he’d risen up in. Well, actually there were two but only one emptied out into the room his target could be located in. It had been a simple matter of climbing the fire escape up, miracleing the window unlocked, and crawling inside. 

The room was dark, the only light stunning from the now open window and the little glowing numbers on the wall clock. Being a demon Hastur was used to dark spaces so the lack of light was not an issue and he was able to get a good look around the room. An old fashioned oak rocking chair was set beneath the window so Hastur has to be careful upon entering the room. The slightest creak and he would certainly alert the others to his presence. Several pieces of furniture Hastur didn’t know the purpose of littered the room, most pushed up against walls, but there was some strange contraption on a rug in the middle of the room that seemed to be composed of little tubes and dangly things. While the majority of the larger pieces seemed to have some use as counter space, this device seemed entirely impractical. He stepped around it, careful about what floorboards he placed his weight on, and crept further into the room. 

Crowley was an idiot but he was not a big enough idiot to place something so precious beneath a window with easy access to the fire escape. Hastur made his way to the far side of the room, gripped the white oak railing, and peered down over the side of the crib. Inside, peacefully unaware of any demonic presence lurking about, was a baby. Now, Hastur did not have much experience with babies. This one marked his second, only after Lord Adam himself, but he was able to pick up on several key differences between this baby and the infant son of his master. Adam had been smaller with only the faintest bit of developing golden locks. This baby was bigger and had a full head of icey blond curls. Adam had been a newborn, taken from the wench that bore him and placed immediately in a basket to be handed off to earth. This baby was months older and grew under the watchful eye of his doting parents. This baby, very much unlike Adam, also had wings. Two small wings poked out from opening cut into the back of a soft mint green onesie, occasionally twitching while the child slept. They were grey, composed of down feathers, but something told Hastur that even with age and emergence of adult feathers, they would remain grey in colour. 

The job of destroying the child fell to Hastur after Ligur had informed their superiors that he was still recovering from the injuries bestowed upon him by Crowley. Hadn’t that been weird? Hastur returned to his office after Crowley’s failed trial, trying not to think about the incident at the serpent’s flat involving the spray bottle and how wrong the lord of Hell had been in assuming that the water had not been holy, and found his believed-to-be-dead partner sitting behind his desk. Granted Ligur looked a little worse for wear than usual. His skin, in some areas, resembled melted plastics & crayons and was continuously oozing it’s way back into place. As it would turn out Adam Young shifting back the world may have brought Ligur back, but it did not necessarily mean it would bring him back in one piece. Hastur didn’t care. He had spent the past few days believing that he would never see the other man again so, melty or otherwise, it was a sigh of relief to see his face again. And to share in his rage.

“They let that snake go?!” Ligur slammed his fists down on top of his desk and one of his hands detached completely. A normal demon, under normal circumstances, would have hissed out and doubled over in pain but Ligur only sighed at the inconvenience. He picked his hand up and fiddled around with it for a minute, trying to get the flesh to reconnect. When it didn’t, he slammed the appendage on an empty space beside his moldy old files and went back to his rant. “After all he’s done to us?!”

The trial had reached the status of infamy in mere minutes following the release of the traitor. Hastur need not explain it to his companion, by the time he had strolled back into the office Ligur already heard all about it. Crowley could not be killed. He was something...something else. As much as the idea of ramming a blade dipped in holy water through his pretty skull thrilled the duke of Hell, Hastur knew it was safer to keep his distance. That did not mean that he or Ligur were happy about it. “The bastard is beyond our comprehension. He can’t be killed by holy water. Lord Beelzebub doesn’t know what to do.” 

“Gut his heart,” Ligur supplied and when it dawned on him that such an idea was impossible, put forth another more tangible option. “Kill the angel and make him watch.”

“And risk heaven’s wrath?” Hastur pointed out. “Our sources-“

“Michael.” Ligur corrected him. They didn’t have sources they had one semi-rebellious Angel who could be trusted to pass on information to them. 

“-Michael has informed us that heaven is willing to pardon Aziraphale. Appearantly forgiveness is _in_ this year.” Hastur did air quotes around the word ‘in’ to point out the obvious ridiculousness of it. Heaven did not forgive. Everyone in Hell knew that. 

“Bullshit. Where was our forgiveness when we were cast down?”

“Exactly. Point is we can’t touch them. Not yet at least.” And with that Hastur kicked his feet up on his desk. Speckles of mud and grim coated the already stained off-brown file covers that were beginning to crumple to dust from years of sitting on a shelf before ending up in the work que of one duke of Hell. “Sooner or later they’ll mess up and we’ll find something to get them on. Something we can destroy.”

It was no secret that Hastur had never liked Crowley not even when they were angels. Crowley was always too...curious for him. He always wanted to know what things meant, why Hastur said and did certain things, was always up in his face about stuff, it was irritating. Murdering (or attempting to murder) his mate in cold blood was just the icing on the cupcake. Ligur’s health may have still been touch and go but he would have his revenge. Hastur would make sure of that. The demon lord had never actually held a baby before. Adam had been placed in his basket via one of hell’s many underlings before being placed under the elder demon’s charge. It was all rubbish if you asked him. Baby went from his mother, to a lowly worm acting as a midwife, to Hastur, to Crowley, to his adoptive parents. Should have just cut out the middle man. Have the demon responsible for sending the antichrist to Earth deliver the baby in both senses of the word. Hindsight could be a real bitch. Adam Young aside, picking up Crowley’s spawn was Hastur’s only first hand experience with a baby. Well except of course...No. he wouldn’t think about that right now. It ran the risk of making the old frog sentimental. Not an emotion one wanted to have when he was about the eliminate an infant. The baby stirred a little as it was lifted from its crib. Hastur learned it against his chest for support while one hand dug deep into the pocket of his trench coat for the dagger Beelzebub had given him, the other arm wrapped snuggly around the baby to prevent it from slipping out of his grasp. Hastur could feel the cool iron hilt of the dagger and had just finished wrapping his fingers around the handle when the baby opened their eyes. 

Thick black slits ran down the centre of the child’s irises exactly like his demonic parent’s. Behind them was a fierce, bright, overcrowding orange that Hastur found hard to look away from. He stared into that child’s eyes, past the sea of orange, and he saw movement. Thin lines of a ghostly pale yellow and sinful red danced in orange and burned his very soul. Hastur saw greed, lust, gluttony sloth, pride, wrath, and envy merging together into an unmistakable evil that made his very existence shiver. In that baby’s eyes, Hastur saw pure, unadulterated evil. 

It was beautiful. 

Tears formed in the corners of his eyes and the baby blinked breaking whatever had taken ahold of the demon’s concentration. Such a creature...it had no right to exist. It was an abomination, a mix of angel and demon that should never have come into this world, and here it was! Hastur couldn’t hold back and gently cradled the child close, rocking it ever so softly and struggling to keep himself from letting out a loud sob. The baby reached up to place a chubby little hand on his cheek. Their skin was so soft against the rough and scarred skin of the demon lord, it felt so cold and yet seemed to have a relaxing power over him. This child, this abomination, Hastur felt his stomach turn at the very idea of harming one hair on their tiny little head. 

Beelzebub would have to know about this. Ligur too. And Dagon, and Eric, and all the demons of the netherworld. Where Adam Young has failed this child would succeed.This child, the spawn of Hell’s greatest enemy, was the answer they had all been searching for!

With cold, salty tears freely rolling down his face and an trembling grin upon his face, Hastur lifted the baby up so that he could gaze again into those fiery eyes. The baby, happy at being elevated, giggled and clapped their little hands. 

Hastur did not hear the door open behind him. He did not hear the low growl that formed in the back of his former subordinate’s throat or the slight gasp that came from his partner. He did, however, feel the plastic head of a garden Mister jabbed directly into the back of his neck followed by a warning from the baby’s more angelic parent, “You have ten seconds to put our son down and leave before I send you back to Hell for good.” 

“And it is holy water this time.” Crowley added in a tone of voice that promised the other demon that this time Hastur would not get lucky. 


	2. Chapter One

_One Year Earlier_

In his thousands of years living on the planet Earth, Crowley liked to believe that he had seen most of what the world could throw at him. He’d seen kingdoms rise and fall like dominos, he’d seen mystical creatures that had not started out as mystical but had died out so quickly that years later humankind doubted that they ever existed in the first place. He bore witness to the four scourges or humanity as they clawed, and kicked, and fought each other with tooth and nail over the most trivial of things. He saw humans take to the skies, to the seas, and now they were headed to the stars. The humans never failed to amaze the fallen angel. And yet as he stood there in the back room of the bookshop, watching four children beat each other with the thickest volumes of text they could find as if they were pillows, he came to the realization that humans were stupid. All of them; inherently, ineffably, utterly stupid. 

This realization came about six thousand years late. Had Beelzebub or any other demon in the nine circles of Hell been sent to Earth in his place, they would have come to this conclusion on day two.

The days that followed the almost-apocalypse brought with them a haze of tranquility that Crowley had never felt before. There was no looking over his shoulder after the trial commenced. For the first time in his existence, he was safe. He and Aziraphale could spend as much time in each other’s company as they wanted without the fear of being spotted and smited. So they had lunch together. Every day starting from the end of the world that never was. Then they had dinners together too and that had been a quick segway into breakfasts. It had started innocently enough; they’d have lunch at their favourite restaurants (the Ritz seeing them the most frequently) and dinner at one of their flats, then one evening after a delicious lasagna dinner and lounging around in Crowley’s equivalent of a living room, Aziraphale declared that it was too late to make the trip back to the bookshop by himself. Crowley, slightly tipsy and as dense as a concrete wall, offered to drive him which caused Aziraphale to make this disgusted face that Crowley would call ‘cute’ later. Aziraphale would scrunch up his nose and shake his head and Freddie Mercury be damned if it wasn’t the cutest thing in the world to the demon. 

“No,” Aziraphale insisted. “You drive like a madman-“

“I am a madman.” Crowley pointed out. Aziraphale just rolled his eyes. 

“What I mean to say is...if you don’t mind my asking...perhaps I could spend the night here.” And because interpretation had never been Crowley’s strong suit, Aziraphale spelled it out for him. “With you.” 

Who was Crowley to say no? And so breakfast together became a regular part of their routine. In the months that followed neither Crowley or Aziraphale seemed to notice when items belonging to the other began to find spots in each other’s homes, nor did they realize shortly after that that Crowley had all but entirely moved into the flat above the bookshop. They had been too dazed by the cloud of domestic bliss that surrounded them to notice that it even existed. Not until Crowley has come back from a walk to St. James Park to feed the ducks and Aziraphale, who had been lounging about on one of the couches upstairs reading an old Oscar Wilde book, said “Welcome home” without any hint that he understood the weight behind those words. It had become home. 

Those who had been at the airbase that supposedly earth-shattering day maintained contact. You pretty much had to. A select group of people: four children, one dog, one angel, one demon, one witch, one disgrace of computer engineer, one witch finder, one former sex worker, all watched as the devil himself rose from the underworld and split the ground in half. They watched an angel appear from the sky like Zeus from a lightning blast, and a demon ride from the ground like the walking dead. They saved the world. No one was ever the same, ethereal blood or not, after experiencing something like and they all found it difficult to part ways. Mostly. Madame Tracey & Sargent Shadwell changed the most out of anyone who was there that day. What they had seen, what they had done, it had scared the both of them in ways they could not even begin to describe. Tracey took it as a sign to retire from fortune-teller con and put the whole ‘gentlemen’s relief’ business at rest. For the first few days after the supposed end-of-time she dressed conservatively before returning to her silk-ridden wardrobe that popped with colour and excitement. She had decided, after searching through an old dresser for something that one of the angels’ may approve of on the off chance one was watching her, that with everything going on in the world it was silly to believe that Heaven would give a rat’s hairy ass about a dress code. Aziraphale assured her that as long as she showed up to Heaven with some sort of clothing on then no one would deny her entry. As for Shadwell, well he became quieter after the supposed end. Quieter and less likely to erupt into a fit against witches or demons or the like. Aziraphale would later admit to Crowley that he believed himself to be partially responsible for this. The one time Shadwell has seen action and he had turned his blind fury against an angel. That, coupled with the fact that Anathema had played such a major role in averting the apocalypse, and the poor man had gone home that day with his head spinning. His morals had not necessarily changed. He would still refer to witches & demons as tools of the devil but instead of going silent and basking in the self-confidence that came with those remarks now he would quickly add a footnote to his tirades that he did not lump Crowley or Anathema in with the common satanic crowd. After all there were good police officers and bad police officers, good teachers and bad teachers, it stood to reason that there should be some good witches and demons out there too (the first time he said this Crowley nearly bit off his own tongue to keep from saying something. It was always babysteps with Shadwell and no one could afford to take a step back). They moved out of London not even a month after the end of the world but would pop in from time to time to see how everyone was holding up or call to discuss something that seemed trivial compared to the end of the world such as cooking recipes from Tracey herself or gossip about neighbors. Despite being retired both Crowley and Aziraphale continued to pay Shadwell his witch finder salary because they were both idiots who had not thought to read Shadwell’s ledger in the fifty-some years he had been in their employ.

Speaking of employment, Newton Pulsifer found an excellent job far away from any modern technology at a familiar little bookshop in Soho. It had been his idea, after all, to open an ordering service to avoid Aziraphale selling any of his own stock. People would enter the store, have a look around, and if they found a book they did like Newt would politely inform them that being the last in shop of that title that he could not sell it to them but instead could order them a copy. 90 % of the customers brave enough to enter the shop after hundreds of years of what could only be described as retail-terrorism agreed it was a major improvement in customer service. Still every now and then someone who just had to have that first edition of Dorian Gray would make some snide remark and ask to speak to Newt’S manager. He’d do them one better and call for the owner to have a word with them. Every time this had happened that unruly customer had left within five minutes or less of speaking with Aziraphale and they never came back. All and all having Newt on staff freed Aziraphale up to do more reading and hunting for books while the shop actually made money for once. Anathema, who was in the process of applying for citizenship so she could remain in England permanently, would stop in every few days or so to have lunch with her boyfriend and sometimes Crowley & Aziraphale would join in, and she would disappear into the back room for a couple hours of quiet. She had taken up writing freelance for a couple of local publications and had also begun to write a novel based off the events that had happened in the past year. Her book (which changed titles every week or so) was currently called ‘Beasts of Burden’ and first editions would be sold almost exclusively from A.Z. FELL AND CO’s. 

The Them were eagerly awaiting the completion of Anathema’s book. She had promised them all that as soon as the final chapter had been drafted, she would let them each have a look to see how they had been portrayed on the page. Pepper, Brian, and Wensleydale couldn’t wait to read it. They had never been written about in a book before (neighbourhood watch bulletins, sure, but they had always been in a negative light. This time they were heroes) with the exception of Adam who had based his character of William in his own short series of stories after himself. Regardless he was looking forward to the book just as much as his companions, if not more. 

It had been difficult for The Them to find ways to keep in contact with the older members of their little apocalypse party. For one thing the fact that Newt, Aziraphale, and Crowley did not live in Tadfield presented a challenge. The solution everyone had come up with was a rather simple one. Summer ended, the children went back to school, and about a week after classes began flyers advertising a private tutor in Soho appeared on the kitchen tables of Pepper, Brian, Wensleydale, and Adam. When the parents of the collective four called to inquire about prices they had been relieved to learn that the tutor offered a discount on groups and so only two weeks after their educations resumed the Them were slated to attend regular tutoring sessions at A.Z. FELL AND CO’s bookshop in London’s Soho district. The parents arranged a carpool and Arthur Young had the privilege of driving the children over to meet with their tutor for their first session. The man, who introduced himself as Anthony to Arthur when they arrived, struck Mr. Young as being familiar but he could not for the life of him remember where he had seen the other man before. Oh well. Anthony was a hell of a tutor and the drive to London was worth the improvement made in the children’s academic performances.

Crowley didn’t actually teach the children much. On some rare days one of the group, usually Wensleydale who was a curious little lad after Crowley’s own heart, would ask the demon about a particular moment in history he had had the pleasure of sitting through and Crowley would give them a history lesson they’d never forget. This wasn’t one of those days. This day had been one of eating candy in front of Aziraphale’s old beat up tv watching the Gilmore Girls and talking excitedly about plans for tomorrow. It was a day that, for awhile, none of them thought would come. The anniversary of the apocalypse that wasn’t. Tomorrow would be one year to the day. 

Pepper had been the one to start the book fight. While the show was on a commercial break she gave Brian, whose face was covered in melted chocolate, a shove, “You look like that melty guy!”

“The one who I destroyed?” Brian asked with a prideful grin. After all what child could say that they had destroyed a monster of humanity. 

“Yeah! That one! Although it’s kinda a disappointment really. All we had to do was say something they didn’t want to hear and they disappeared. There was no big fight or nothing.” 

This was where Crowley decided to step in. It was one thing for a gaggle of children to want to know about the more interesting moments of history (for some reason they all seemed to be fascinated by the Spanish Inquisition) but it was another to be _wishing_ to be in a fight. Crowley leaned over the back of the chair he had been lounging in for the past two hours and gave the girl a warning look, “Pepper you really don’t want to be fighting a horseman of the apocalypse.” 

“Horseperson.” Pepper corrected her tutor. 

“Whatever. My point is-“

Crowley had been so focused on talking Pepper down from her fighting spirit that he had not noticed when Brian grabbed a nearby book and bopped her in the back with it, “I believe in a clean world!”

Pepper stumbled but was otherwise fine. It didn’t even take a second for a gigantic grin to appear on her face and the next thing Crowley knew the children were scouring the room for the heaviest books they could find. Wensleydale snatched an old encyclopedia off a worn old end table and got Brian in the shoulder with it, “I believe in a healthy lunch!”

“I believe in peace bitches!” Pepper screamed so loudly that the customers in the front of the shop heard her and exchanged looks of confusion before returning to their browsing. It was not the strangest thing they had experienced at this establishment. 

Adam, clutching a copy of the bible of all things, hopped up onto the end table that had once held Wensleydale’s encyclopedia and shouted out, “I believe in life!”

Children really were beings of pure chaos weren’t they? Perhaps that was why Crowley was so fond of them. The Gilmore Girls resumed and he cast his attention back towards the tv, “I believe you’re all terrible.” 

The door to the back room swung open and Aziraphale poked his head inside. The children froze in place, books still in midswing, while Crowley just looked back over his shoulder at the door. “Crowley? I heard screaming and...” The angel began to ask but his words died in his throat when what the Them were doing sank in. “Should I even ask?”

“I wouldn’t.” Crowley answered honestly. 

“We’re playing a game!” Adam announced with a triumphant grin, the bible now tucked away under his arm safely. “Apocalypse!”

Aziraphale looked between his demonic lover and the children currently left in his care. “Oh...You children really do have a morbid sense of humour don’t you?”

Wensleydale set his hard cover weapon of choice down and Adam hopped down off the end table, “Actually I think it makes sense. We celebrate the continuation of the world by reenacting the day it almost ended.”

“Yeah, I mean it’s got to be better than what you have planned to celebrate.” Pepper added. She paused for a second and thought over her words before asking, “Do you have plans to celebrate?” The Them knew that Anathema & Newt we’re taking a quick trip up to visit Shadwell & Tracey, and they were planning on camping in Hogback forest, but they did not know what the angel and demon planned to do. Aziraphale’s face turned a bright shade of pink and he slunk back into the doorway. His eyes darted back and forth from his lover to the children almost as if he was signalling for help. 

“Heh...well you see...” The angel started to say but again could not find the words to convey how to answer the girl’s question.

From the comfort of his chair Crowley shifted uncomfortably, “Well...” 

~~~

Crowley and Aziraphale did, in fact, have plans to celebrate the almost-apocalypse but their plans were not the sort of thing anyone be they human, angel, demon, or otherwise would feel comfortable telling a child. The idea began innocent enough; with the end of days behind them and no tasks from head office that required their attention, Crowley put forth the idea of spending the entire day sleeping in bed. Aziraphale, who had an affinity for naps, liked the sound of staying in bed but was not one to sleep for 24 hours straight and suggested that while they remain in their bed, that they find other things to do to fill their day. Crowley, again not an expert at interpretation, asked what they could possibly do in a bed besides sleep that would be an excellent use of the day and his face turned as red as his hair once Aziraphale explained it to him. Red faced and sweating, Crowley couldn’t nod his head fast enough. 

As it would turn out it was nearly impossible to spend an entire day in bed, no matter how many times you engage in sexual intercourse. Around nine Aziraphale left the warmth of the blankets and pillows and ventured out into the kitchen to collect food. Shortly before noon Crowley, who feared he was beginning to reek, suggested they temporarily relocate to the bathroom so they could shower, and once again Aziraphale had been the one to stray into the rest of the flat to gather food and snacks for the pair when lunch finally rolled around. Aside from those select times the couple, true to their words, spent the day in bed. 

Crowley nuzzled against his lover and breathed in his scent. Aziraphale smelled so sweet, so warm, like a vanilla cupcake or fresh flowers in the spring. “You ready for round...” The demon trailed off and crunches the numbers in his head. He had last track after their quickie in the bathroom. Or was it when they were in the kitchen that the numbers began to blur together? “I lost track. What round are we on now?” 

“I do wish you wouldn’t refer to our lovemaking as _rounds_ ,” Aziraphale replied and was able to grab onto one of Crowley’s hands as they snakes their way around his waist. He pressed a kiss to the back of Crowley’s hand, “27.” 

“Can I just say that this is the best idea we’ve ever had?”

“You may.” Aziraphale said and rolled over onto his back so that his demon could curl up into his side. He wrapped an arm around Crowley’s shoulders, still cool to the touch despite them both sweating profusely, and held him close. Only a year ago they wouldn’t have been able to do this. They wouldn’t have been able to even dream about being this close! “Then again any idea where we get to spend the day together is a good idea in my book.”

His demonic love blushed and mumbled something under his breath about the Angel being a _softie_. Aziraphale just chuckled and pressed another kiss to Crowley’s hand. It was a strange thing to admit but Aziraphale was especially fond of Crowley’s hands. His fingers were long, thin, and yet calloused from the time he had spent crafting the stars and the planets among the almighty. They were beautiful and one of Aziraphale’s favourite parts of his lover. That and his eyes. Crowley had such big, beautiful golden eyes. Sometimes the bookseller would wonder if they had been that way since his lover’s creation and if they hadn’t, what had they been like before? Aziraphale had never been able to work up the courage to ask. He knew that life before the fall was a sensitive topic for his lover and would do whatever he needed to avoid causing him unnecessary strife. The couple laid there for a few seconds just holding each other in a comfortable silence. It was heavenly but they both knew it wouldn’t last. 

“Hey,” Crowley asked and sat up abruptly, “Want to get a little wicked?”

“Depends. Your scale of wickedness tends to encompass...many things that make mevery nervous. What did you have in mind?” Wicked to Crowley could be anything ranging from writing the child-friendly versions of swears on stop signs to committing armed robbery (Aziraphale would never forget turning on his television set on day in 1982 to see a familiar face on security camera footage breaking into a major bank in America but that was a story for another day). Aziraphale loved Crowley but there was no way he was going to go about committing a felony on this, their day off in bed. 

The serpent of eden just grinned and Aziraphale watched his appearance shifted. Crowley’s curves took a much more feminine shape, his hair grew slightly longer so that it was shoulder length, and his chest filled out. The demon giggled like a schoolgirl and ran a hand down the length of his new body showing off the extent of the changes made to his physical form. It had been a few years now since he last took this appearance but it was a memorable one. “Well?” Crowley asked, his hands lingering over the now well endowed curves of his chest. “Fancy a go of role playing?”

“Nanny Ashtoreth...what a gorgeous creature,” Aziraphale took a deep breath. It was all he could do to prevent himself from being lost to the lust threatening to overtake him. Crowley, of course, was always beautiful in any form he took but Nanny Ashtoreth was something else entirely. A beautiful, domineering woman who radiated grace and sex appeal with every breath she took. Aziraphale couldn’t keep himself from reaching out and gently caressing the woman’s cheek. A devious smirk formed on the demon’s cherry red lips and took hold of his lover’s hand, guiding it to his mouth, and sucked on the end of Aziraphale’s fingers. The angel groaned and watched his lover work. In another, more miserable life Crowley would have made an excellent incubus. “One of my biggest regrets is not taking advantage of our closeness at the Dowling estate.”

“Don’t take it personally my love but no way Nanny Astoreth would sleep with the gardener.” Crowley said and pulled back from the principality’s hand. They winced at the very memory of Aziraphale’s human disguise. While Crowley had taken a far more seductive approach to the Dowlings, Aziraphale had swung completely in the other direction. “Those teeth.”

“So what is this then? Nanny meets a handsome stranger at the bar? Is she trying to seduce the single father she’s working for?” 

“I was thinking Nanny goes into a bookshop looking for a gift for one of her children but doesn’t have enough to pay for it.” 

Aziraphale shivered at the scenario played before him. Ashtoreth, in her tightest black skirt and blouse, leaning tantalizingly across the desk, clutching a volume of forgotten lore to her bosom, those gorgeous eyes staring at the man behind the register with want. If someone actually tried such a thing the guardian of the eastern gate would send them running without so much as a second thought but this wasn’t real. It was his demon, his Crowley, presenting him with a concept that seemingly went against everything Aziraphale had once stood strongly against. For once Aziraphale could loose himself in the situation without fear of the consequences. He placed his hands on the demon’s hips and leaned in to brush his lips against his lover’s, “Oh that is _wicked_.” 

~~~

A.Z. FELL AND CO did not open that day. No one in Soho noticed. The store’s hours were always weird and there had been days in the past where the owner simply didn’t feel like opening shop. A few neighbours heard loud noises coming from the flat above the stop throughout the day but thought nothing of it. Weird shit happened above the old bookstore all the time, the owner having kinky marathon sex with their lover was not the strangest thing in the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So to quickly explain the timeline:   
> * The prologue takes place one year after this (chapter one) so it takes place two years after the almost apocalypse.  
> * Chapter one takes place exactly one year after the almost apocalypse. 
> 
> I’m going to be showing the events that lead to the prologue before picking back up where the prologue left off. Give everyone some time to think about what’s going to happen with Hastur, Crowley, Aziraphale and the baby. 
> 
> Also this is really out there but if anyone can guess what the baby’s name is before it’s mentioned in the story I’ll give the man a shout out or a one-shot request or something. 
> 
> Second also I want to thank all you awesome guys for reading and giving such good feedback so far. I really appreciate it!


	3. Chapter Two

Life returned to the peaceful domestic bliss everyone had grown to love after the almost apocalypse. The day after the anniversary Newt opened the bookshop on Aziraphale’s behalf while the angel lingered in the flat above tending to his lover. They were both worn out but giddy and more than willing to spend an extra day lounging around together while their human companion handled the business. Aziraphale returned to work the next morning and Crowley scheduled another session with the Them for after school that Tuesday. Anathema popped by, manuscript in tow, and enjoyed a nice lunch with her boyfriend and his employer while Crowley went out shopping for some new plants to place around the shop. There had been an incident earlier in the month when Adam incorrectly judged the distance between a pot of lilies and the edge of the counter they rested upon and now there was a barren spot in the back room that the demon was determined to fill. Anathema and Newt gushed over their visit to the countryside and what Shadwell & Tracey were up to, and Aziraphale listened to every word with a sweet little smile. He did not tell them what he and Crowley had gotten up to on that fateful day. 

Two weeks passed without incidence since the anniversary. The Them has plans had plans to stop by that weekend and go explore St. James Park with their ethereal friends. Anathema had stuck around Jasmine Cottage to tend to the overgrown garden that had been there since she moved in. Newt and Aziraphale sat together behind the counter in the bookshop going over inventory and orders that were expected to arrive within the month. The angel, whose knowledge in the field of technology went no further than 1950 in regards to most things, nodded along as his young companion tried to explain how he went about making the phone orders. Behind them the stairs leading up the flat creaked and Crowley rounded the corner caring a pot of freshly brewed coffee. Though he knew that Aziraphale preferred tea, coffee was the best beverage to use to wake up this early in the day. 

“Morning gents,” He said to the two other men at the counter and held up the fresh pot, “Want some coffee Newt?”

“Oh, that would be lovely Crowley. Thank you.” 

Aziraphale kept a couple of spare mugs underneath the counter for when he felt like miracling himself something to drink in the day. Newt settled on a small white mug with angel wings for a handle and held the cup up for Crowley to fill. Something passing by the window outside caught the demon’s attention. It had been small and moving fast. A bird of some sort? Whatever it was it had Crowley’s interest. He tilted the pot forward without so much as glancing in Newt’s direction and missed the mug completely. The coffee, boiling hot and free of anything to cool it such as milk or cream, spilled directly onto Newt’s lap. 

The human’s eyes bulged out of his head and he jumped up out of his seat, pawing at his crotch to try and remove some of the scalding liquid and screaming out in pain. “AAGH! Crowley what the hell?!”

“Oh shit! Sorry, Newt, sorry! Here I’ll grab you something.” Crowley placed the now half empty pot on the counter and ran upstairs to find something to help the poor boy out. His jeans were completely soaked and a couple towels were definitely in order (towels, they had onhand but pants that just so happened to be in Newt’s side would have to be miracled in). 

Rather than make the trip upstairs Aziraphale miracled himself a soft, fluffy bath towel and handed it over to his young employee. “Are you alright?”

Newt began the embarrassing task of dabbing at his damp crotch with the towel and winced. He wouldn’t have any third degree burns or anything so severe but his groin was going to be red when he had a chance to examine it later. Good. Pulsifer’s life had already spun completely out of control, he didn’t need to add _going to the ER because of a burnt coffee dick_ to his list. “I’m fine...just a little burnt. It’ll be okay.”

The stairs creaked behind them. Aziraphale and Newt both looked back to see Crowley standing in the door sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. He had with him neither towels nor a pair fresh pants for Newt. 

“I was supposed to be doing something.” 

“Yes. Yes you were.” Aziraphale replied with a blank expression. He could not tell if his love was attempting to play some kind of prank on them or not. If he was, it wasn’t funny not was it in line with Crowley’s typical brand of mischief. 

Golden irises darted over to the half full pot of coffee on the counter and back to Newt and Aziraphale. In all the confusion, Aziraphale had taken the empty mug from Newt. Something seemed to click in Crowley’s mind and he picked the coffee pot off the counter. “Coffee?” He asked. 

Newt briefly considered the possibility that he had been pulled into an alternate dimension. Then, realizing how stupid that was, entertained the possibility that Crowley had secretly signed them up for some hidden camera prank show. “Sleep well last night Crowley?” He asked. 

“Pretty good, yeah. Why?” The demon responded with a slight shrug of his shoulders. 

Aziraphale looked between his lover and his employee before setting the empty mug aside. He felt safer with it out of his grasp in case Crowley decided he needed to add another burn victim to his list. “Maybe you should go sit down for a bit love,” he suggested in his gentlest tone of voice. “You seem to be a bit out of it.”

“I’m fine.” Crowley insisted. He took a good hard look at the pot in his hand and frowned, “I could have sworn I made more than this.”

“You did. It’s in Mister Pulsifer’s lap.”

“Oh right! That’s what I was doing! Hang tight and I’ll go grab you a towel-“

“No, no, no! It’s okay! I uh...I think you should listen to Aziraphale and go sit down for a few minutes. Just get your thoughts together.” Newt insisted and took a couple of cautious steps back from the demon, holding his hands up in an act of self defence that would look odd to any potential customers who happened to be passing by the window at that particular moment. To them, they would see a frantic looking young man attempting to find off a confused looking red whose only weapon was an old coffee pot. It wouldn’t be the strangest thing any of them had seen at A.Z. FELL AND CO but it was certainly not normal for any other London store. “And put down the coffee.”

“I’m telling you both that I’m fine,” Crowley persisted. To both Aziraphale and Newt’S relief he set the coffee pot back down and disappeared into the rear of the store, calling back over his shoulder, “Anyone needs me and I’ll be watching my stories.” 

Newt waited until he was sure Crowley was out of hearing range to say, “That was weird. Was he like that this morning?”

“A bit. I just assumed that he was tired.” Aziraphale answered honestly. “He got himself a bowl of cereal for breakfast, forgot to put the milk in, and complained that it was awfully dry.”

“Huh.” A dopey grin appeared on Newt’s face and he gave the angel a playful shove. “Hey, yo-you ever hear the expression ‘shag someone’s brains out’? Maybe that’s what happened.”

“Newton, pet, I will have to advise you that that is not the type of comment to make about the lover of your employer.” 

“Duly noted. I’m just going to clean myself off and go back to work now.” 

~~~

“Do you smell that?”

Newt looked up from the clipboard he had been using to go over purchase forms. “Smell what?”

Across the room Crowley lounged on an antique chair that looked to be left over from the late Victorian period (this was Newt’s estimation of the piece. It was worth noting that he was not someone who was familiar with antiques and had based his guess off films set in the Victorian era that contained similar pieces of furniture). The serpent’s nose twitched and he exclaimed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “That!” 

“No.” Newt replied. He sniffed the air for good measure but it smelled the same as usual: Old leather bound books with thick, heavy, yellowing pages, warm coco, the hidden undertone of possible mold, all of which could not be what the demon was referring to. “What does it smell like?”

Crowley’s face twisted up in disgust, “It’s so strong and bitter! I feel like I may-“ He started to gag and moved quickly to clamp his hands down over his mouth to prevent him from throwing up over the floor. Newt leaped from his chair over to the other man and placed his hands on Crowley’s shoulders. Most of the books in this store were first editions, signed by authors, _relics_ , each worth more than Newt’s first three cars put together! Whether he was screwing the owner or not Crowley couldn’t get sick here. 

“Woah! Woah! Woah! Not on the books!” Newt exclaimed and helped lift the demon up to his feet. “Come on big guy, the bathroom is over-“

Behind his trademark sunglasses Crowley’s eyes rolled up into his head and his body went completely limp. He crashed into the helpful human who barely had time enough to grab a hold of the other and keep him from hitting the floor. 

“Crowley!” Newt struggled to keep the man upright. He no longer seemed to be on the verge of vomiting but Crowley seemed pale compared to his normal complexion and Newt wouldn’t rule it out as a possibly. He gave the demon a gentle shake but nothing. Crowley was passed out cold. 

“Aziraphale!”

~~~

“What happened?!” Crowley kept his gaze directed down at the floorboards to avoid having to see the panic in his angel’s eyes. The last thing he remembered he was trying to keep his cereal from breakfast down, next thing he knew he was laying on the sofa upstairs with a very anxious Angel and former witch finder hovering over him. Aziraphale had knelt down beside him and was holding onto Crowley’s hand as if the demon was on his deathbed. And people said Crowley had a tendency to be dramatic. “Please my dear boy, i have to know. Whatever made you sick, we need to remove it so it doesn’t happen again.”

“I don’t know what happened. I just started to smell this really bitter thing and it made my stomach flip. Next thing I know Newt is trying to keep me from upchucking all over your books and I just...” Crowley shook his head. It hadn’t been the scent that caused him to faint. He could remember feeling his stomach flip flopping and thinking _Angel is gonna kill me if I ruin one of his books_ and his head starting to spin the moment he got to his feet, “I think I stood too quickly. Like, I was already nauseous and bolting up just made me go all dizzy.”

Aziraphale said nothing but took a hold of the serpent’s hand and gave it a concerned squeeze. He didn’t need to say anything. Everything he needed to say, Crowley saw when he finally did look up into his lover’s crystal blue eyes. “I’m fine Angel. Really.”

“What was the smell?” Aziraphale asked. So they couldn’t do anything about the dizziness and the fainting. They could at least get rid of the scent that made Crowley sick. 

“It was strong, bitter...very sweet. I don’t think I smelled it in the bookshop before.”

“We’ll get rid of it.” Aziraphale assured him and slowly rose to his feet. He held his hand out for his lover to take and both he and Newt helped the demon get up off the sofa. They took their time getting Crowley to stand, an act that caused the demon to get flustered and attempt to bat their hands away, but kept him from enduring another fainting spell. “Come on, let’s go have a look.” 

“There! What is that?!”

“That’s the air freshener Anathema brought in,” Newt said and unplugged the tiny but threatening little device out from the wall socket his girlfriend had set it up in. “It’s supposed to smell like cherry blossoms.”

“Get rid of it!” Crowley hissed. 

“Tell Anathema that we appreciate the thought but it’s just too strong in such a tight space.” Aziraphale added. He wrapped an arm around Crowley’s waist and the demon instinctively leaned into his angel’s side. “Come on love, we’ll put you to bed for a bit, yeah?”

“Okay.” Crowley wasn’t going to put up a fight. He figured, but did not admit it out loud, that this was most likely just an off day. Come tomorrow he’d be his normal, cocky, confident self. They left Newt watching the store and holding onto the air freshener that caused the problem. 

“Huh...” Newt mumbled, flipping the device over in his hands to get a closer look at it. As he had suspected it was only half full. “Could have sworn Anathema brought this over a few months ago.” The former witch finder said to no one in particular. But that didn’t make sense. The cherry blossom scent had been wafting through the shop for a while before it had any negative effect on Crowley. So then what changed?


	4. Chapter Three

Aziraphale rolled over in bed. Instead of bumping into his partner he nearly fell out of the bed entirely. His eyes shot open. What time was it? He looked to the window. The sky was still dark but growing lighter and lighter by the second. He glanced back at the digital clock Crowley had insisted on bringing with him when he moved in. It read, in flashing red numbers, 5:45. Aziraphale frowned. Crowley had never been much of an early riser, nor did he have any desire to open the shop before noon on most days, but if he wasn't in bed then where was he? The angel's question was answered when the silence of the early morning was broken by the sound of someone retching in the attatched bathroom. Aziraphale pushed the covers back and climbed out of bed. Though the door to the bathroom was shut, he could see light coming from underneath. "Crowley?" He asked though he had absoluetly no idea who else it could be. Ever since the trials Aziraphale had taken the precaution of locking the doors to both his shop and flat everytime he retired for the evening. Not to mention that none of their human companions had keys so if he opened the door and found one of them getting sick in there, they were going to have an awful lot of questions to answer. Without knocking Aziraphale pushed the door open and, sure enough, found Crowley. 

The demon was pale, paler than Aziraphale had ever seen him, and slumped back on the tile floor, leaning against the side of the bathtub. He was breathing heavily, beads of sweat ran down his forehead, and there was vomit staining the corner of his mouth. Crowley looked up at his lover like a child who had been caught sneaking extra cookies would look up at their mother and it didn't take a genius to know why. Aziraphale had been growing more and more concerned for him following his fainting spell in the shop the other day and he hadn't wanted to cause the other any more worry. Aziraphale grabbed a small towel off the bathroom counter and knelt down beside his lover. He dabbed at the corner of Crowley's mouth, trying to clean him up a bit, and said in the softest voice he could muster, "Oh dear. Not feeling too well are we?"

"What was your first clue?" Crowley fired back with more venom than he intended. He immediately took it back, "Sorry I just..."

"How long have you been like this?" asked Aziraphale. 

"Bout an hour or so." Crowley's first thought upon waking up with the growing discomfort in the pit of his stomach hadn't been to check the time. "I think it's calming down now. Even if it isn't, all I'm doing is dry-heaving."

At least with dry-heaving Crowley could go back to bed without the fear of vomiting & soiling the mattress while he tried to sleep. To be safe Aziraphale made a mental note to grab the bathroom garbage and place it near Crowley's side of the bed on the offchance something did come back up later. "Here," He said and offered his arm out to his lover for support. "Take my arm and we'll go back to bed."

Crowley was in no position to be protesting and took hold of the angel's arm. They went slowly, careful in their movements, Aziraphale still didn't know if getting up too quickly would cause Crowley to pass out again. Crowley, who had seemingly been born to go fast, just sighed. "I don't understand it. I have a stomach of steel. You pretty much need one to be a demon considering Hell smells like an open sewer."

"Well, you did almost vomit in the shop the other day." Aziraphale reminded him. 

"That was different. That was that damn airfreshner pumping out such a bitter scent that it made my eyes water." Said Crowley. "Only time I've ever gotten sick like this before was on that company retreat."

"Company retreat?"

"Mmhmm. 1996. Beelzebub thought it would be good for morale to take a trip somewhere. We ended up renting out Disneyworld for about a week or so. Anyways I got into an arguement with Dagon and we made a bet to see who could last longer on the rides. We must have tried about one of everything at those little street vendors and then rode the Matterhorn until one of us threw up." The serpent shook his head at the memory. It was one that most demons had blocked out their mind and for good reason. They never did go on anymore company retreats after that. Before he had been more or less disowned by Hell, he and Dagon shared the credit for being the demons responsible for all of Hell being banned from the Disneyworld park for life. "I should have just went to the princess meet ups with Eric & Beelzebub."

"Who won?"

"I did but at a great cost." Just because Crowley had managed to go twelve times on the rollercoaster without tossing his cookies did not mean that they were secure once he got to the ground. If any of the demons who had bore witness to such a historic event dared to recall, the serpent of Eden stepped off the rollercoaster on shaking legs and stood there trembling for a moment before bolting to the nearest trashcan and spending the next thirty minutes with his head inside. Crowley ended up having to purchase a new t-shirt from the giftshop to replace the one Dagon had ruined during their last ride. Somewhere in the back of his closet was a neon blue t-shirt sporting the ironic phrase, _I survived the Matterhorn_. Sometimes on casual fridays Dragon would come in with her neon pink _I_ _rode the Matterhorn and all I got was this shirt_ shirt. They were the only things that existed, besides the repressed memories, to prove that the event had really happened. 

Aziraphale believed every word Crowley said but he had not been picturing Disneyworld as high on Hell's list of places to go what with their mantra of happiness and magic, "I'm surprised your lot choose Disneyworld for your outing."

"Well corperate evil. Not to mention it's in Florida. Years ago there was even talk about relocating our headoffices there."

That made much more sense. Still there was one more pressing thing on the principality's mind, "This is going to kill me if I don't ask. What princesses did Beelzebub want to go see?"

~~~

A.Z. FELL AND CO opened at noon exactly. Newt had arrived bright and early (carrying a coffee he'd purchased at Starbucks along the way) to meet with some of the shipments coming in. As friendly as Aziraphale could be, he just didn't seem to grasp the concept of ordering stock and both agreed it was better left in Newt's hands. Things were slow for the first hour as they waited for the truck to arrive and Aziraphale had taken to dusting some of the older editions while Newt sipped his coffee behind the counter. "How's Crowley doing today?" The former witch finder asked. The demon had not come downstairs to the main area of the shop since his fainting spell. Newt was beginning to suspect that it may have embarrased the old snake to look so vulnerable in front of a mere mortal. 

"He was sick this morning." Aziraphale replied. "I'm beginning to get worried. This is not like Crowley at all."

"Can ethereal beings catch the flu?" Newt asked, "If so just tell him to pop down to the walk-in clinic and see a doctor."

"I can honestly say that I've never met an angel or a demon that caught the flu before." Not that Aziraphale had been actively asking his fellow angels about in the 6000 years he had been in contact with them and he certainly wasn't going to ring Gabriel up now to ask if that were possible. 

"Oh." Newt's face fell a little. If it had been something as simple as a flu than they at least had options. He thought about it some more and a familiar dopey grin formed on his face, "Maybe he's pregnant." Newt teased.

Aziraphale set the book he had been cleaning back on the shelf and spun around to face his employee. "Remember that talk we had the other day Newton?" He asked, "About how it's better to hold one's tongue when making comments about the love of your employer's life?" 

Newt gulped and took an extra long sip of his coffee. How could someone be so intimidating and so polite at the same time?

The more he thought of his demonic lover, still bedridden from his experience this morning, the guilter Azirphale felt for leaving him alone. He looked to the wall clock. It would be about a half hour or so before the deilveries came in. Plenty of time to dash upstairs and see how Crowley was doing. "I'm going to go upstairs for a minute and check on him." Aziraphale told Newt, "Keep an eye on things."

"No problem Boss" Newt responded with a military-like salute. Something told him that Aziraphale would not be back down for some time so in a way, it was kind of like seeing a solider off to battle. 

~~~

Aziraphale didn't know what to expect when he got to the top of the stairs leading to the flat. He had been under the impression that he would find his lover either curled up asleep in their bed recovering his strength from the morning or laying on the bathroom floor again in immense stomach pain. He had not been expecting to find the demon sprawled out on their couch in nothing but a short, black, bathrobe, popping strawberries with whipcream into his mouth. Sensing his angel lingering nearby, Crowley slowly dipped one strawberry near his mouth and lapped at the whipped cream with his forked tongue, "Hello Angel. Fancy seeing you here."

"Crowley, I live here." Azirphale reminded him. In fact, he had lived here long before Crowley. "What are you doing?"

"Can't a man lounge in his own home?" Crowley asked and popped the berry he had licked the whipped cream off into his mouth, "And can't he do it while eating strawberries?"

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in front of his chest. This hardly seemed like an appropriate snack for someone who had been getting sick just that morning. "You don't even like strawberries." 

Crowley didn't seem to hear him. "Sometimes you just want some strawberies." 

Sensing that there was no winning this argument Aziraphale decided to change the subject. "Very true. That's a new robe."

"Uh huh. Black silk." Crowley ran a slender hand down the length of his side, stopping at the bottom of said robe. It only came down to about mid-thigh which meant Aziraphale was seeing a lot of the milky white flesh. He was certain that this was intentional. "The plush one Madame Tracey gave me for Christmas is nice and all but it gets so warm. The silk though, it feels cool against my skin."

"I see." Aziraphale looked away. If his eyes lingered on his lover any longer he was certain to fall victim to the demon's trap. "I know what you're trying to do here Crowley. You're not subtle?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Crowley asked with an innocent little smile. He plucked another strawberry from the bowl, dipped it in whipcream, and popped it into his mouth. The juice from the berry stained his lips red. "Mmm sweet..."

"And here I thought you disliked sweet things."

"Again, sometimes I just crave something sweet. Did I ever show you this trick I can do?"

This caught Aziraphale's attention. He turned back to face his lover who was looking at Aziraphale like a man marooned on a deserted island without food for five days would look at a hamburger. "What trick?" The angel dared to ask.

Crowley plucked yet another strawberry from the bowl. He opened his mouth and to Aziraphale's horror, Crowley's entire jaw unhinged. Without so much as taking a bite out of the berry, Crowley dropped it into his mouth and swallowed it whole. He reattatched his jaw, sat back up, and had the nerve to wiggle his eyebrows. Aziraphale's eyes widened to the size of saucers. 6000 years and he had never seen Crowley do that before. Quite frankly he never wanted to see Crowley do that again. "Good lord!...Well now I know why you're always so peckish with your food..."

"Snake, love. Means I don't have a gag reflex."

The state Crowley was in when Aziraphale found him in the bathroom that morning said otherwise. "Are you sure about that?"

"That's different. I was sick. What I mean to say is...I can't choke."

"My dear boy..."

"Come on. Newt can watch the shop for a couple minutes. Give in to temptation."

Aziraphale sighed and began to undo the knot of his bowtie. Crowley grinned and all but pounced on his lover, fully aware that he had won. He plastered kisses all along the nape of Aziraphale's neck, causing the angel to roll his eyes and remark, "One of these days you're going to make me fall."

Crowley just chuckled. "Hey, if you didn't get kicked out of heaven for that stuff we did last month, you're never getting kicked out."

"Fair enough." 

~~~

Aziraphale opened his eyes. Something was very wrong here. His eyes scanned the room and landed on the bedside clock. The numbers read 2:34. The angel looked to his left and realized for the second time in 24 hours that Crowley was no longer in their bed. Groaning, Aziraphale pushed himself up out of bed and wandered still half-asleep over to the bathroom. The lights were off and no one was inside. Huh, Aziraphale thought, but then where is...

The lights were on in the kitchen. Aziraphale could see them down the hall. A little more awake now he wandered out to invesitate and found Crowley, still dressed in his silk pajama set, sitting at the kitchen table with a plate of food before him. Of all the things Aziraphale had been expecting to see when he entered the kitchen, this was not one of them. Crowley rarely ate even when they were together, it was another for him to be eating by himself. "Crowley? What are you doing?" Aziraphale asked.

"Did I wake you?" Crowley asked between bites of the sandwich he had made. “Sorry Angel. I just got hungry."

Aziraphale pulled out a chair and sat down across from his demon, “It's 2am."

"I know but I couldn't sleep. And all of a sudden I just had this craving for...well for sushi honestly but I don't know any all-night-sushi stores so a tuna sandwich had to suffix."

"I see." Aziraphale’s gaze landed on what was next to the tuna sandwich on Crowley’s plate. “And the crisps?"

"Can't have a sandwich without crisps now can you?"

"That is true." At least this may be able to explain why Crowley was throwing up that morning. “Have you been doing this a lot lately? If you're getting up and eating in the middle of the night, it could explain why your stomach is so sensitive in the morning."

"Maybe. I did have some ice cream the other night but I didn't think much of it at the time."

"That's probably it then." Aziraphale sighed in relief. At least they knew it wasn’t anything serious. “Just to be safe I'm going to grab a bucket and a damp washcloth."

Crowley took another bite of his sandwich and cocked an eyebrow, “Why the washcloth?"

"I heard that placing a damp washcloth over your stomach helps sooth it when you're going to bed ill." Aziraphale explained. He didn’t add that it was a placebo used to calm sick children. 

"Oh. Alright then." Crowley said and grabbed a handful of crisps off the plate. Before he could drop them into his mouth Aziraphale leaned across the table and asked,

"...You're not going to do your jaw-thing again are you?"

"No,” Crowley replied. “I only use that for seductive purposes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies to the good people of Florida.


	5. Chapter Four

Though they had left London to get away from all the crazy Madame Tracey and Mister Shadwell made it a goal to stop in and visit as often as they possibly could. Maybe it was out of a genuine connection and friendship forged with the others who decided to remain in London and maybe it was out of fear that the lot that stayed behind would inevitably end up triggering an earth altering event again in their lifetimes. The honest answer being a mix between the two. The bookshop was the easiest spot to drop in whenever Anathema was unable to host them at Jasmine Cottage (not something that occurred often but would come up whenever her mother was in the country to visit). Shadwell and Tracey didn’t mind. The bookshop was an oasis to the former fortune teller and she’d happily get lost with her angel companion among the stacks while Shadwell chatted up Newt and Crowley about whatever seemed to seize him in that moment. 

They had been planning this visit for mid August as soon as they learned that Aziraphale & Crowley would not be attending the anniversary plans in Tadfield that June. While Shadwell openly wondered what was so important they couldn’t make the trip, Tracey just smiled knowingly and started planning the trip into London Soho. Anathema would not be in attendance at this time due to her mother’s sudden arrival and insistence that they go sightseeing in the English countryside. This meant that Newt, for the meantime, was sleeping on the sofa upstairs while Tracey & Shadwell had a hotel down the street. 

Both Aziraphale and Newt were downstairs when they arrived; Tracey a vibrant display of bright colours and Shadwell following behind her in his usual darker, off-grey and brown. “Hello!” Madame Tracey called out and seeing the angel behind the counter all but squealed. “Aziraphale!”

“Ahh, Madame Tracey! It so delightful to see you,” Aziraphale stepped out from behind the counter and threw his arms around the petite woman. In all his years on earth, she had to be one of his favourite people. Not just because she had been so helpful when dealing with the whole _Adam Young thing_ , but also because she possessed such a pure and positive spirit. They hugged for a moment before Aziraphale took a step back and nodded a greeting at the man who she had entered with, “Sargent Shadwell.”

The former witch finder nodded back, “Ey. It’s Mister now lad. Retired and all.”

“Oh but you’ll always be Sargent Shadwell to me.” Considering the military personal we’re able to keep their titles after retirement, it only made sense to the angel that the witch finders should be able to do the same. It had not become apparent to him yet that the witch finders were not considered a branch of the military, private or public, nor would they ever be. Regardless his insistence on formality did bring a smile to Shadwell’s otherwise hardened face.

Behind the counter Newt waved, “Hello Madame Tracey. Hello Sargent Shadwell. How was your trip?”

Madame Tracey undid the buttons on the jacket she had brought with her and handed it over to Mister Shadwell who in turn set it on the old coatrack Aziraphale had placed in one of the corners of the shop. It joined the ranks of Newt’s sweater that he had left a few months ago and a leather jacket that had been abandoned in the store since 1957. “Rather pleasant actually. Not a lot of people heading in to London today. How’s it all been here then? Everything ship shape? No angels or demons bothering you all.”

“Well there’s Crowley but we can’t really get rid of him can we?” Newt teased. Aziraphale, fully aware that the man meant no harm, flashed the human a warning look that said _I recognize that you’re only having fun but please do well to remember that the second you take this too far, I will destroy you._ Newt just kept on smiling back. If Aziraphale hadn’t _destroyed_ him yet he never would. 

Shadwell turned and looked around the shop, searching for a glimpse of firey red hair and attitude. He had been expecting to see him around. “And where is Mister Crowley? Is he in today?”

“He is. He’s just been a bit...” Aziraphale didn’t know how to explain it so the humans could understand. He didn’t know how to explain it so he could understand. Demons and angels did not get sick but here they were now with no possible explanation as to why. The theory that it may have been Crowley’s late night eating went up in smoke when, after stopping for a few nights to see what would happen, he still continued to get sick in the mornings. Now they didn’t know what was going on and Aziraphale’s was this close to breaking out some of his old medicinal books on herbal remedies written by wiccans in the 19th century. Unfortunately the majority of their cures involved cannabis and that was far too difficult for an angel to acquire. “Under the weather so it may be a bit before-“

“I’m here.” Four sets of eyes looked towards the stairs. Crowley stood there dressed in black skinny jeans and a Queens t-shirt looking more like his old self than Newt or Aziraphale had seen in recent months. The air of confidence, that air of coolness that followed the demon around had returned with vigour. Aziraphale’s jaw dropped. It had been far too long since he’d seen his lover like this; handsome, sauve, a beacon of perfection even in something as simple as a t-shirt and jeans, but more importantly not throwing up or passing out somewhere in the flat. In other words, Crowley was beginning to look like Crowley again. “What? Did you think I was just going to sleep through their visit?”

“Oh my word Crowley,” Madame Tracey gushed, “You’re positively glowing my dear!”

Now that she mentioned it something did seem to be a little _extra_ about the demon lately especially when he was fully himself like this. Aziraphale looked the serpent over but he couldn’t see anything different. Crowley looked like the same old beautiful Crowley. He was just happy that the demon was up and about. Speaking of which, Crowley waved her comment aside, “You’re far too kind Madame. Far too kind.” 

“I mean it. You look amazing, love. Did you do something new with your hair? Or maybe you tanned. Mister Shadwell do you see it?” Tracey insisted and gave the arm of Shadwell’s sweater a little tug to try and pull him into the conversation. Shadwell had been scanning his demonic friend with the others but just like them, couldn’t pick on what exactly had changed. Still he wasn’t one to shy away from giving compliments when deserved,

“Aye. She’s right. You look good lad. Though I can’t tell if anything’s changed.” The former witch finder leaned down and whispered to his paramour. “I think he just radiates confidence.” 

“Thank you.” Crowley replied with a smile. Considering he had grabbed an old pair of pants and jeans from the back of his closet with little thought or effort this morning, the praise had been an unintentional surprise. One that he sorely needed. Aziraphale was never one to forget to tell Crowley that he loved him and that he was beautiful but after spending nearly two months feeling as vulnerable as a kitten, hearing someone else say confirm it was a breath of fresh air in cold, dead lungs. “If I may say so you both are looking quite refreshed yourselves. Country air doing you some good?”

“It’s been wonderful. Being able to wake up without having to worry about who’s stopping by for the day.” Madame Tracey replied. 

“Not having to worry about witches or the end of days.” Sargent Shadwell added. 

~~~

Reservations were made for dinner at The Ritz that night. Until then the group were more than comfortable with lingering around A.Z FELL AND CO’s and just enjoying the quietness that came with the shop’s lack of customers. A prolific English writer was doing a signing at the Chapters a couple blocks away so it was looking to be one of those slow, comfortable days. Newt manned the counter while Shadwell, Tracey, and Crowley sat around in the plush, antique chairs, flipping through old books and talking about nothing important: good movies that they recommended, gardening tips for the countryside plants at Tracey & Shadwell’s new cottage, etc. They were in the middle of a conversation about what flowers were best for bees, petunias or daisies, the the door to the shop opened as signified by the singing of the bell above the door. A woman entered and Newt knew it was going to be interesting. 

She was an American tourist. One could tell from the flag prints tank top that didn’t cover her midriff and the MAGA hat she wore unironically. She was bottle-blond with long hair held flat and unstyled in anyway. She pursed her lips together in an unimpressed sneer as she took in her surroundings and quickly flocked to the religious section to browse. Newt kept an eye on her. Maybe he was profiling but something about this woman struck him as off. He watched her pull out a few titles, ‘hmm’ & ‘huh’ and slid them back where they had been found. Towards the end of the stack she pulled a leather bound book from the shelf and her eyes lit up at the very sight of it. She tucked the book under her arm, made her way over to the cash, and slammed it down on the counter. The book itself was a collection of poems relating to the war between Catholics & Protestants first published in 1785 by a young writer who would fade into obscurity if not for a few religious fanatics who keep his name alive. Because of this there were a few newer additions of the book floating around. Despite his misgivings about the girl, Newt managed a retail smile and started to write down the book’s information, “Excellent choice ma’am. I can get you your copy within a week or so.”

The woman scoffed, “My copy? My copy is sitting right there. Now ring it in.”

Newt hated being right all the time. “I’m sorry ma’am but this is a first edition. It is store policy not to sell first editions but to instead order in more current editions for customers. If you want I can-“

The woman was having none of this. Her face turned beat red and she threw her arms up in the air, “What do you mean I can’t buy this? This is a bookstore ain’t it? If it’s on the shelf, it’s up for sale.”

“Ma’am that is a first edition. There is only about twenty of those left in circulation. Now, I can order you your own copy from our supplier-“

“That’s bullshit. I’m not coming back to this hole in the wall. Just let me buy my fucking book and get out.”

“The retail price for that book is over 35,000 dollars American.” The woman could not afford it. Newt could tell just by looking at her. She couldn’t even afford shorts that completely covered her ass. 

Undeterred the woman fired back with her counteroffer, “I’ll give you $13.50.”

“No. This is not a negotiable price. The item isn’t even for sale!” 

By the woman had had enough of their conversation. Leaning across the counter she grabbed ahold of Newt’s collar and pulled him up so he had no choice but to look into her eyes which were wild with an unstoppable, unreasonable rage. “Look, I’m buying this book for 13.50. Here’s me pulling out a twenty. You’re going to make change, put the fucking boom in a little bag, and maybe I won’t call your manager on you.”

Shadwell, Tracy, and Crowley had been watching this unfold with baited breath. When she grabbed the young man Shadwell started to get up but Crowley signalled him to sit. This was best left to the professionals. The demon got up instead and approached the counter, casually leaning next to the woman threatening his human friend, “Is there a problem here Newt?” He asked.

The sudden appearance of the demon was enough to get the woman to let go of Newt’s collar and he stumbled back, desperate to put as much space between them as possible. “Yes. This lady is trying to purchase one of the first editions for 13.50 American.”

Crowley snorted back a laugh, “Ma’am, you’re trying to pull the equivalent of walking into the louvre and throwing a twenty at a guard to _buy_ the Mona Lisa. It’s just not practical.”

“Practical. You want to know what’s not practical? Then sunglasses buddy. What are you blind or something?” The woman fired right back and any humour that Crowley could find in the situation went out the door. His face fell and his jaw dropped (though not completely. Had Crowley unhinged his jaw at this moment, he certainly would have won the fight but when arguing with a woman one tended not to think of any snake powers they may or may not have possessed). Seeing this reaction so visible on the redhead’s face the woman smirked and continued, “Look at you. You’re one of those guys who dresses in all black cause he thinks it makes him look cool huh? Tough. But the second you’d get into a real fight you’d just crumble up like the delicate little snowflake you are.” 

A snowflake? Crowley? The serpent opened his mouth to respond but before he could so much as get one syllable out the woman was firing off on him again, “Let me tell you about you love. I have a psych degree from the University of Phoenix. I know this...You grew up wanting to rebel and be cool to cover up the fact that otherwise you have no personality. So you have the glasses, the dark clothes, and the body of a rockstar and that buys you a couple hookups in the dark rooms of nightclubs where they can’t see your face or any part of you really. But that’s lonely hmm? Only being able to hook up with strangers looking for a cheap thrill, which is pretty much all you are: a cheap thrill. So every night after you’ve been fucked senseless and lost an additional ten brain cells to the alcohol you use to tell yourself that all of this is okay and that you’re _desirable_ you just eat and eat until suddenly that little while in your heart if filled.”

To top it all off the woman reached over and patted Crowley’s stomach, “That would explain the gut you’re starting to get.”

Newt, Shadwell, and Madame Tracey were dead silent. They exchanged concerned looks and wondered if they had the duty to try and pull this woman away from what was certain death. They waited for Crowley to go off on her disrespectful ass, to transform into some horrifying monster to scare her away, to straight up condemn her to hell but nothing happened. Crowley stood there staring down at this woman, not saying a word. Then his body started to tremble and shake. Something rolled down behind the serpent’s sunglasses that Newt recognized as a tear and before he could so much as say anything the Demon burst into tears.

Newt had never seen Crowley cry before and it wasn’t something he ever wanted to see again. “Oh no.”

“What the hell is the matter with you?!” Madame Tracey exclaimed, jumping up from her seat and rushing over to the crumpled up serpent. She pulled Crowley into a tight embrace and rubbed comforting circles into his back, “It’s okay love. You’re okay.”

Shadwell stomped over to the American and pointed an accusing finger at her, “Listen here you scarlet woman, you hag, you complete and utter twat! You’re gonna be apologizing to my friend here and then after that you’re going to be leaving this establishment. Do I make myself clear?”

“Or what?” The woman asked. 

“Or I’ll have a fun time kicking your boney arse all the way to Glasgow!” Shadwell screamed. 

The woman just snorted and crossed her arms in front of her chest, “I’d like to see you try old man.”

“Old man!” Shadwell looked just about ready to blow. Crowley was still crying and had his face buried in the crook of Madame Tracey’s neck and Newt stood behind the counter awkwardly. Tracey snarled at the woman, 

“That’s my boyfriend you silly bitch! Best watch what you say about him!”

“Or else what grandma? You gonna give me the crabs you got from whoring yourself around London?”

“What did you just say?”

“I called you a whore,” The Woman replied. “Whore.”

Shadwell was some being nice. He grabbed the woman firmly by the shoulders and snapped right in her face, “Hey! You listen here missy, the only person who gets to call that woman, that saint of a woman, a whore is me!” 

“Oh look another dirty old man.” The woman said with an eye roll and jerked herself free of the retired witch finder’s grasp. 

“Alright then-“ Shadwell drew his fist back and was more than ready to sock the woman square in the face when something caught a hold of his arm,

“What in the world?” A familiar voice asked and Shadwell let his arm drop back at his side. Aziraphale stood behind him, surveying the chaos that had unfolded in his establishment in the short amount of time it had taken him to go upstairs and brew some tea for everyone (the tea now sitting on a tray in the back room unattended). He saw Crowley sobbing furiously in Madame Tracey’s arms and rushed to his lover’s side. “What happened love? Why are you crying?”

“Cliffnotes version of it is this: she tries to steal a book, a first edition, by paying about 14 bucks for it, then when Crowley steps in to tell her no, she goes off on him saying that he has no personality, how no one will ever want him, how he’s cheap...” Newt filled the angel in. If Aziraphale had been such a stickler on his _friend_ for reading the demon, he’d love to see what he did to this bitch. “She also called him fat.”

That was enough for the principality. He glared at the woman who seemed mighty proud of herself for reducing a man to tears. Aziraphale’s words to her were short and sweet, “Ma’am, get the fuck out of my store.” 

The woman gasped and placed a hand over her chest faking offence, “I beg your pardon? I cannot believe the lack of customer service skills-“

“Newt, Madame Tracey, Sargent Shadwell, my dears, please close your eyes a moment.” Aziraphale warned the group and neither one of them wasted time following his request. They heard the woman scream bloody murder and the sound of the door to the shop violently swinging open and shut again. When they opened their eyes, however, they just saw Aziraphale standing in the centre of the shop brushing himself off. 

“What did you just do?” Newt asked. 

“Have you ever seen an angel in their original form? There’s a reason we send visions of the Virgin Mary instead of ourselves.” Aziraphale informed the human who quickly made a mental note to never get on the angel’s bad side again. No more cracks about how big of a space case their friendly neighbourhood demon had become. The angel of the eastern gate walked towards his lover still clinging to Madame Tracey and held his arms out for him. “Crowley. Come on now love, you’re quite alright.”

Crowley all but threw himself into his lover’s arms. He wasn’t sobbing anymore but tears still rolled freely down his cheeks. He nuzzled into Aziraphale’s loving arms while the angel murdered sweet things into his ear. He then turned his attention back to the two humans who had traveled so far to see them. Aziraphale felt terrible about the whole thing but Crowley needed him right now. It took more than a common woman to bring the great serpent down... “I’m afraid that we’re going to have to cut our visit a bit short. I...”

“S’alright lad.” Shadwell assured the pair. Hell, after dealing that witch he was feeling a bit drained himself. 

“Do what you have to do.” Madame Tracey added. 

“Right.” Aziraphale agreed with a nod. He was glad to have met these people. They were so kind, so accepting towards him and his demon. They were lucky to have them as friends. 

“I’m sorry that happened dear.” Madame Tracey called after the two. Had Aziraphale not shown up when he did, she would have gladly thrown a couple hits on the bitch for insulting both her boyfriend and the poor demon who had done nothing to incite such a wrath. “She’s wrong.”

Sargent Shadwell nodded in agreement and added on to his girlfriend’s sentiment, “You’re a good man Mister Crowley.”

Crowley didn’t looked up as his lover guided him back upstairs to their flat bur he was able to say one thing just loud enough for the couple to hear him, “Thank you.” 

The three humans watched their ethereal friend’s disappear upstairs then collapsed back into the plush seats that they had been occupying before that wretched woman arrived, collectively breathing a sigh of relief that it was all over. 

“I don’t think I have ever seen him cry before. I would have thought that he’d just....you know....” Madame Tracey ran a finger across her throat and made a noise that sounded sort of like a long, drawn out slurp. 

Coincidently Sargent Shadwell had been thinking the same thing. When that woman started going off on the redhead he thought he was about to bare witness to a murder. “Ey. I don’t pity that woman but she’s in for a shock when Mister Crowley’s mafia friends start looking for her. Still I thought that he would have been the one to do it himself. Didn’t expect him to get all emotional.” 

“He’s been like this for a while. Going on one, maybe two months. All moody and hungry and sick.” Newt explained to the others. At this point it wasn’t much of a secret if they were even trying to keep it under wraps. “If he isn’t throwing up something, he’s eating and that’s just keeping the cycle going.”

“Very odd.” Madame Tracey mused, “Have you tried some chicken noodle soup?”

“Yes.” Newt replied. He’d made the soup himself from his mother’s recipe, a treat for the angel & demon letting him stay with them while Anathema entertained her mom. “And tea with honey. And ice cream. Just about every comfort food associated with curing illness.” 

“Very odd indeed.” Sargent Shadwell agreed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale & Crowley in the show:  
> Aziraphale: Can you do this for me *puppy eyes*  
> Crowley: *Does the thing*
> 
> Aziraphale & Crowley in this story right now:  
> Aziraphale: If anyone makes my love uncomfortable I will destroy them 
> 
> Next Chapter: The first real appearance from Anathema!


	6. Chapter Five

“Something the matter love?”

Aziraphale had just finished his evening cup of tea and was headed off to bed when he noticed the light in the bathroom still on. Checking in he found Crowley standing in front of the mirror with his shirt off just staring at himself. 

The serpent of Eden stepped to the side so he was standing profile in front of the mirror. His gaze was directed towards his stomach, “I’m fat.”

“What?” Aziraphale asked and couldn’t keep his voice from cracking up. Was this one of his lover’s strange jokes? 

“Remember that lady the other day?” Crowley asked. He ran one of his elegant hands from his chest down to his stomach and hissed in disgust. 

“Yes.” The American tourist had been hard to forget. Luckily she had come back though she did write an unfavourable review on /Yelp!/ about her experience in the store. Also luckily, no one took her seriously considering she stated that it was run by an eldritch horror monster. 

“She said I had a gut.” Crowley reminded him and patted his supposedly out of shape stomach. “See?”

“Crowley your stomach is flat as a board-“ Had been since the day God made him. 

“But look! Right here! It’s all soft right here! Not toned and tight like before!” Crowley insisted and pointed accusingly at his own stomach. Aziraphale tried to see what his lover was taking about but nothing seemed different from before. Crowley was as big of a noodle as ever. The demon threw his arms up in defeat and stalked out of the bathroom, opting instead to flop down on the bed. “I don’t get it.”

“Okay first of all you are most definitely not fat. If anything you’re slightly underweight,” Aziraphale reminded him and sat down next to Crowley on the edge of the bed. “Second the soft may be because of your late night trips to the fridge.”

Crowley groaned and rubbed at his forehead. He had been fearing that but it could not be helped. He was just so hungry lately! Aziraphale took hold of Crowley’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, “My dear boy, you’re absolutely _radiant_. You have nothing at all to be concerned with,” he assured him. “Nowhere on God’s green earth is there a creature half as beautiful as you.”

“Sap.” The demon said with a snort but Aziraphale’s kind words were enough to draw a small on the serpent’s lips. 

“It’s very much true.” Aziraphale promised him. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Crowley said and Aziraphale took the opportunity to lean in and press a soft kiss to his lover’s neck, “Hey. Stop that.”

“Why?” Aziraphale asked innocently. He pressed another kiss to Crowley’s neck, then another on his shoulder, and then another, and another, and another. 

“Cause it feels really nice and if you don’t knock it off then we may just have to-“ Aziraphale cut him off with a kiss. He placed his hands on Crowley’s slender hips and pulled the demon against him. The angel’s actions earned a chuckle from the demon when he pulled back, “Cheeky bastard aren’t you?”

~~~

Though her busy schedule had kept her from witnessing Crowley’s apparent descent into madness she had heard all about it second hand from Newt. He’d come home work with some kind of beverage (usually coffee) straining his clothes or otherwise frazzled and spend the evening explaining all the strange behaviour their demonic chum had exhibited that day. It seemed to get worse as time went on. Crowley had become forgetful, scattered, prone to mood swings that while not violent were extremely unpredictable and had lead to more than one breakdown within the store. If his head seemed to be clear then he was hungry or feeling amorous and both resulted in him tempting Aziraphale away from his work for more personal time together in the flat upstairs. Newt admitted that it may not have been bad if it weren’t for Crowley being so _loud._ More than one customer had been driven away from the shop due to the sound of moans, screams, and squeaking bedsprings and at one point a neighbour had gone so far as to call the police and register a noise complaint! Newt, scrawny, nerdy little Newt with his glasses and his cardigan sweater, face fully flush, remembered vividly having to lead the constables to the flat upstairs where his two companions were going at it behind a locked bedroom door. As soon as police cleared him to go Newt sprinted back downstairs, put his headphones, and did inventory until it was time to leave. He didn’t see either cop come back downstairs and no other cops arrived to inspect the place. 

“He’s sick,” Newt said while running his hand through his hair. “He’s sick and we’re all worried about him.” 

The group didn’t know much about demons other than what had been pieced together through scripture and offhand remarks that Crowley made (Apparently Prince Beelzebub liked Princess Aurora. Anathema still didn’t remember how the conversation reached that point) so if it was serious, they’d all be left in the dark. Anathema, being a woman of both science and witchcraft, felt whatever the demon was inflected with could be cured and entered the bookshop that day confident that she could solve whatever riddle Crowley’s body threw at her. 

Aziraphale had taken their human employee to lunch as a thanks for being so patient with the two of them as of late and Crowley volunteered to stay behind. He stood behind the counter leaning against its surface and flipping through the pages of some motorcycle magazine. Anathema entered the store with her nose buried deep in a book on the relevance of seaweed as a herbal remedy (perhaps she could grind some into a tea to help sooth his nerves) and looked up to grey the demon, “Hey Crowley. How are you feeling today? Newt was telling me that you’ve been a bit under the weather-“

Anathema knew Crowley’s aura. She knew it quite well. The air that surrounded the demon, snuggled over him like a soft coat, glittered like the stars he claimed to have helped made. It changed in colour like a wave, transcending from red to orange to yellow like a flickering flame. It told of his passion, his confidence, his love. It was warm and read ‘CROWLEY’ through and through but there was something else with it. Clinging to the edges of Crowley’s aura was a thin line of blue just detached enough for Anathema to know that it was not an emerging part of Crowley. While it hovered next to his, this aura was the property of someone else entirely. Someone who, at the moment, was utterly and entirely tranquil and content with the world. Anathema had seen similar behaviour before and knew exactly what this meant. It was impossible for a person to contain two separate auras. For such behaviour to exist there had to be another being in play. 

Well, that would explain all the stories Newt had been telling her. 

“What?” Anathema entered the shop and had stopped dead in her tracks the second she looked up and saw Crowley standing there. Even for a demon her dead-eyed stare was unnerving and giving Crowley the creeps. He tried addressing her again, “Anathema? You alright?”

Hearing his voice seemed to shake the young Yank out of it. She shook her head, smiled, and giggled nervously, “I’m sorry I just...I had no idea.” Her eyes went past Crowley to the backroom of the shop which was empty at the moment. Anathema rushed behind the counter and ushered Crowley inside and over to one of the bookshop’s many plush chairs, “Oh wow...here come sit down. You shouldn’t be standing in your condition.”

“In what condition?” Crowley asked but offered no resistance to sitting down and getting off his feet for awhile. “Honestly you people act like I’m dying. Okay so I’ve been a bit all over the place and a bit hungry and a bit horny and maybe I’m a little sensitive lately but I’m fine. Really.”

The occultist listened and nodded along to every word. She didn’t know much about this sort of thing firsthand but could remember things that her mother used to tell her, “Well that sounds about right to me. My mother always said that the first few months of pregnancies were the roughest just because you’re getting used to everything. You should start behaving more like yourself the further along you get.”

The air in the room grew heavy around them. Anathema coughed awkwardly and Crowley didn’t say a word. He cleared his throat, he looked the girl over, he looked like he was on the verge of saying something but second guessed himself and stopped. It took the demon far too long but he was finally able to spit out one word, “What?”

Anathema suddenly wished that she had a drink, “You do...you do realize that you’re pregnant right?”

Crowley shook his head, “...No.” 

“Oh.” If she had a glass of wine now would have been the perfect time to swirl the liquid around before taking a sip. “Surprise.”

~~~

Though he was opposed to the idea of drinking during a time like this himself (or, more realistically, Crowley was afraid to drink incase there was any truth to the witch’s words) the demon was the one to suggest that they lock up the shop for a bit and head upstairs to where the wine was kept locked up. He poured Anathema a glass which she quickly downed then refilled it before taking a seat next to her on the sofa, “You’re sure?”

Anathema took a long sip of her wine before answering him, “I can see it in your aura. It’s small but growing stronger. It definitely there.”

“Can you tell how long it’s been...?”

“No. Wait, you mean you don’t know when you...” Crowley just shrugged his shoulders. Damn horny angels and demons. Anathema could list off every time she and Newt had had sex in the past year and Crowley couldn’t even give her a timeframe for when he could have gotten pregnant. “How can you not know?”

“Well it’s not like something I was concerned about! No sex Ed in heaven! I had to piece it all together from years on earth!” Crowley exclaimed and slumped dramatically against the back of the couch, “I didn’t even realize that when I switched the bloody thing actually worked.”

“What bloody thing?”

“My vagina.”

“Do you actually have one?”

“I’m a demon. I can switch out whatever I want my genitals to be or I can none if I’m feeling like it.” Crowley thought about this and his hand shot down to his crotch. Anathema watched, bewildered as all hell, as he felt around through the fabric of his jeans. Satisfied with his investigation Crowley pulled his hand back, “Wait, but how can I be pregnant? I definitely have a penis right now.”

His guess was as good as Anathema’s. Again her knowledge with demons was limited to the one she just so happened to be friends with. If he didn’t know, she didn’t know, and was left to speculate, “Okay well maybe when you switched back your womb stayed. Kinda like an override thing since you managed to get an egg fertilized-“

Crowley scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Making me sound like a chicken.”

“Just remember to switch back to...lady parts when it comes time to give birth...” _Oh that was going to be an experience._ Part of Anathema was curious to see what would happen when a (generally) male presenting demon was ready to endure the pains of childbirth, another, more self-preserving part of her said that was a good time to flee the country. This line of thought got to her thinking. Did Crowley have _any_ understanding of pregnancy? “How long do demons gestate?”

“Fuck if I know.” Crowley said, “If I was still in communications with Hell maybe I could call and get an answer.”

Hell was a dead end. No way they risk something as major as this over a bit of uncertainty. The second they nderworld knew that Crowley was vulnerable they’d strike. Thoughts of demons swooping in on the bookshop and finishing the ragtag bunch off filled Crowley’s mind. Anathema’s mind, on the other hand, focused on another part of Crowley’s statement. “So demons have had baby demons in the past?”

Crowley sighed and miracled a glass into his hand. The liquid inside was not alcohol (unfortunately) but orange soda. It was something for him to drink while he spelled all of Hell’s secrets to a mortal woman. “Only about thirty or so of us fell originally. Still a big chunk considering how many angels existed at the time but we were out numbered. Satan he suggested we take drastic action to increase our numbers and stand against heaven.” Crowley explained. He had been lucky. Satan has offered him his position on earth long before the whole _adding to the ranks_ issue came up. He got to skipping out on the fucking. “A few offered themselves to the cause and pumped out some kids rapid fire. Didn’t really carry them though...laid eggs instead-“

“Eggs?” Anathema repeated. She had to be hearing him wrong at this point. There was a lot of weird things in this world but demons laying eggs could _not_ be one of them. 

Unfortunately for Anathema it was. Crowley guzzled half of his soda before and continued with a nod, “Uh huh. Anyways the result was about a hundred or so second generation demons. Ones born after the fall with no memories of heaven, devoted to their dark master. Their parents weren’t parents. They were donors who surrendered their genetic material for the cause and they were rewarded heavily.” Maybe Crowley was a tad jealous that he didn’t get a title. His relief at not having to carry a child at the time far outweighed that. “I know a few demons who participated personally though I doubt they’d be willing to speak now given the circumstances.” 

“Well I mean it can’t be too relevant either. It being part angel.” Just as she was about the being her glass to her lips to have another drink, it hit the young witch. “Aziraphale doesn’t know.” 

“No he doesn’t.” Crowley replied, “But I mean....we’ve got time to figure out how to tell him. Baby won’t be here for a while right? I mean, last time we had vaginal sex was...oh.” 

“Oh? Oh what?” Anathema asked. Was it worse than the egg-thing?

Crowley set his now empty glass down on the coffee table and sighed into his hands. He sat in silence, mulling over the new information. Anathema practically bounced on the spot beside him as she waited for her well deserved explanation. Crowley straightened himself back up and glanced up at the ceiling with a glazed over look in his eyes like he staring straight into the face of god. Finally he spoke, “Azirphale knocked up the Nanny.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe it took these idiots four chapters to piece together that Crowley was pregnant when Anathema figured it out in two seconds? 
> 
> Thanks for reading :D


	7. Chapter Six

_It’s warm. Unusually warm for London. Crowley can feel the heat surrounding him long before he’s dared to open his eyes. He does and realizes that he’s no longer in the safety of his bed. He rolls over to check on Aziraphale and finds that his lover is no longer there. This is enough for Crowley to bolt upright and call out for the missing angel but the words burn his throat. He looks behind him. Crowley is sitting on the edge of an invisible wall before him he can see London, his home, burning as knights with black & white wings clash in the sky. Behind him is a pool of water that he recognizes instantly as holy water. The demon can feel the sanctity from his perch. _

_“Hello Crowley.” The serpent in question looks above him. There with beautiful and intricate wings spread and lifting him up is the archangel Gabriel. He is holding something against his chest and in his other hand there is a blessed dagger. “You’ve been a busy little bee haven’t you?”_

_“Gabriel.” His name doesn’t burn like Aziraphale’s but Crowley can feel the blisters pulsing in the back of his throat. “What have you done?”_

_“My job. Not you though. No, you just had to be so different. Such a rebellious little thing...”_

_“Where is Aziraphale?!” The blisters burst and Crowley can feel his throat threatening to close at the mere mention of his lover’s name. He won’t back down though. He can’t! Not without knowing what had happened to his angel! “You tell me where he is!”_

_“Gone.” Gabriel replied without an ounce of emotion. It was a mundane fact to him. The sky is blue, 1+1=2, the guardian of the eastern gate was dead. “Aziraphale is gone.”_

_“No....” Crowley can no longer stay sitting up. He collapses against his invisible wall and begins to cry and pound the bricks that cannot be seen. How long has he been asleep? How long has his angel been...? Crowley tries to search for him but comes up empty. “You bastard!”_

_The archangel the hand holding the dagger to his lips and shushes him, “Hush. You’ll wake the little one.”_

_The thing in Gabriel’s arms whines and squirms and a cold, chilling suspicion engulfs the demon. Crowley placed his hands over his stomach but he can’t feel anything. He couldn’t feel anything before either, to be fair, the baby only being so far along but he knows that it’s no longer inside him. Gabriel is holding it._

_The angel in question has taken to bouncing the swaddled infant and mockingly cooing down at it. Crowley wished he could see their face, see something of his child, but Gabriel is too far away to make out any distinguishing features. He hopes it looks like Aziraphale. “Cute little tyke. Looks a lot him. Lot like you too which is unfortunate but still. That doesn’t really matter now does it?”_

_“This child is the unholy abomination, a living embodiment of the sins you and Aziraphale committed. You know what must be done.” The archangel continued and raised the holy dagger high above the infant. “The sins of the father become the sins of the son.”_

_“Gabriel-“ Crowley squeaks and hopes and prays but he knows that God won’t answer him. Gabriel brings the blade down and a sea of red erupts from the bundle along with a sickening cry._

_“NOOO!” Crowley screams and thrashes about on the ground. He tries to summon his wings, he screams, and he cries, and he begs God for mercy but nothing happens. “GABRIEL!”_

_“Stop your whining. If you had kept your miserable cunt shut you wouldn’t be in this mess. However I do have to give you some credit.” The archangel snaps and Crowley goes completely still. “It takes a real moron to restart a war they fought so hard to stop.”_

_Something tells Crowley to stop looking up and look ahead. He does and sees that a man has appeared in front of him. The man is tall, just a bit taller than Crowley in height, with ice blond curls styled into a mohawk (short on the sides, long in the centre). His is dressed in black and well built, easily able to go toe-to-toe with the serpent of Eden if it came down to it. He was covered in blood like Carrie White, as if someone had dumped a bucket of the stuff over his head and he’d allowed it to soak into his hair and stain it. The man opened his eyes and Crowley saw flames and Hell before him._

_“Hello mum.” The man said in a soft, almost child-like voice, and surged forward. His hands collided with Crowley’s chest and the serpent was sent stumbling backwards off the wall and into the holy water below._

~~~

Aziraphale is woken up by the sound of screams. He bolted upright in bed and looked around the room. Had heaven or hell finally caught up to them? Was this it? Just as he was about to turn and shake Crowley awake the demon’s arm flew back and hit him in the face. That deescalated the situation quickly. Beside him in bed Crowley thrashed and screamed and called out Aziraphale’s name. It was unnerving and yet another further cause for alarm in the angel’s growing list of concerns about his love, but at least it wasn’t another kidnapping attempt. 

“Crowley? Crowley! Crowley!” Aziraphale called out and reached over to try and prevent the demon from hurting himself in his sleep. Everyone knew that you couldn’t corner a snake or else they’d strike, Sven at great harm to themselves. They were panic-y animals. “Calm down please! Crowley!” 

The sound of his lover’s voice calling to him was enough to snap Crowley out of the dream. His eyes burst open and seeing Aziraphale hovering over him, holding onto his arms, and baring witness to that concern in his beautiful crystal blue eyes that had been steadily building since Crowley first poured coffee into Newt’s lap, the demon threw his arms around Aziraphale’s shoulders and pulled him backwards onto the bed in a tight embrace. 

“My dear boy,” Aziraphale murmured and ran his fingers through Crowley’s auburn hair. It was always so silky, so soft. The demon nuzzled closer, his body trembling as he started to cry into his angelic lover’s shoulder. Aziraphale just murdered sweet nothings and held him close. “My love, my demon, my dear sweet Crowley. Please tell me what’s wrong. Please calm down and tell me what I can do.”

For a moment the crying stopped. Crowley lifted his head to look up at Aziraphale. His eyes were red and puffy with tears, the slits of his eyes were huge (Crowley’s beloved sunglasses rested comfortably in one of their many cases in the bedside table drawer). “I’m pregnant.” The demon said, “I had a nightmare. About the baby.” 

Aziraphale didn’t have time to properly react to the news like any other expectant father. There was no overly dramatic fainting or crying or thanking God or rolling around on the floor or whatever people did these days. His mouth went dry and the words didn’t get their proper opportunity to sink in. The principality’s top priority, at the moment, was soothing Crowley. When the demon was calm and content, and his stress levels were low, Aziraphale would take him by the hand and eagerly ask the hundred questions that had flooded into his mind upon learning the truth behind Crowley’s illness. “It’s only a dream-“ He tried to assured the demon but Crowley wasn’t having it. 

“Gabriel killed you!” He exclaimed. “He killed you and then he killed our baby and I couldn’t even tell that he took them-“

“Look at me.” Crowley tilted his head and looked away but Aziraphale wasn’t having it tonight. As gently as he could, he cupped the demon’s face in his hands and forced his head back so they were staring into each other’s eyes. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Gabriel and heaven want nothing to do with us. We’re safe now.” 

“They can’t hurt you,” Aziraphale promised his immortal lover. He didn’t know how true this statement could end up being. There was no telling how Heaven and Hell would react to the news that two traitors were having a child together to further add to their factions’ misery. “They can’t hurt the baby.”

~~~

It took over three hours for Crowley to stop crying and be able to get mind off the nightmare that had plagued him. Aziraphale stayed with him the entire time just holding onto his demon, stroking his hair, rubbing his back and shoulders, peppering his entire body with kisses, everything he could possible do or think of to bring some sense of peace to his troubled lover. The tears finally ran dry and the couple laid there in each other’s arms. The built up pink that came from immense misery slowly drained out of the demon’s face and his normal pigment returned. Crowley yawned and Aziraphale took this as the opportunity to start asking his questions, “How long have you known?”

“Anathema told me about it two weeks ago or so. Didn’t know how to tell you.” Crowley admitted. A mental breakdown in the middle of the night had not been high on his list of ways to possibly break it to his lover but life had other plans. “In March-“

“You’ve been pregnant since March and didn’t find out until this month?! Crowley it’s September! How could you-“

“The baby is due in March. We...we conceived in June.” 

Aziraphale let out a sigh relief and relaxed further back into the bed. He knew that both he and his demon had _issues_ with picking up the obvious but to be pregnant that long without noticing...well...that would be the rock solid confirmation that the serpent of eden was an idiot and while he would not leave him because of it, Aziraphale would need to take some time just to think about it. It was oddly comforting to know that they had both been in the dark for the same amount of time. “June?” Aziraphale repeated. Something about the month of June sounded familiar. Crowley watched as a thin blush appeared upon his lover’s cheeks. It was an easy puzzle to fit together when you thought about it. “Oh. June.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley spoke slowly as if he was approaching a frightened deer and not the father of his unborn child. “if you want to get out now I’ll understand but I just need you to know that- I want to keep it. Nightmares aside I couldn’t bare to...to part with it.” 

“Crowley,” The angel replied with a widening smile. “My dear boy. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“You’re smiling.” Crowley said. It was infectious. A small, faint, but still very much there smile appeared on his lips too. 

“Course I’m smiling!” Aziraphale said. “Love, you just told me that I’m going to be a father!”


	8. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My heart literally melted writing this. I no longer have a heart. Just heart-juice.

_October_

The pool of people who knew the truth behind Crowley’s condition were limited at the moment to four; the demon himself, Aziraphale, Anathema, and Newt. They decided early on to keep the pregnancy hidden as long as possible from the rest of their circle of friends until they felt more in control of the situation and able to answer the questions that would naturally arise. Anathema, however, didn’t get the memo and told Newt about it as soon as they returned to Jasmine cottage that evening. Though neither angel or demon had been there to witness the exchange both imagined it went down a little something like this:

_Newt : “How was your day?”_

_Anathema : “Oh you know. Worked on my book, had some lunch, Crowley’s pregnant. The usual.” _

So Newt knew. Unlike his girlfriend he was doing a much better job of keeping it under wraps. Not even the Them who were still attending their regular tutoring sessions with Crowley had realized the new development and their tutor had, on several occasions, had to excuse himself to go throw up during their sessions. They knew better than to complain. After all Crowley had started bringing food to their sessions to snack on while they worked and none of them really wanted to he jeopardize the chocolate. They would tell everyone else, eventually, but for now we’re more focused on how the pregnancy progressed. This seemed like the most logical option seeing as they didn’t even know how long Crowley would be pregnant for.

Anathema estimated March based off human standards of gestation and her theory appeared to be confirmed when in early October it became clear that Crowley had started to develop a bump. It wasn’t overly huge and could easily be hidden by wearing a baggier t-shirt than his normal tight-fitting apparel but the curve was there and swelling out a little bit each and every week. Around the shop Crowley had taken to wearing an oversized black hoodie Newt had been so kind as to donate to him to keep the children and any customers from getting suspicious. Up in the flat, however, Crowley stuck to his own wardrobe which showed off the new life developing within him. Aziraphale was ecstatic; never more than a few seconds away, always fixing him something to eat (“ _You’re too thin my dear boy. You need to increase your calorie intake for the baby_.”), always showering him with little kisses and compliments, but Aziraphale’s new favourite thing was doting on Crowley’s ever expanding bump. When they’d embrace his hands would drift down to Crowley’s stomach and rest on the new curve, and he just stand there for a moment in this air of contentedness. It was still too early for him to feel the baby moving, though Crowley himself had been beginning to feel some stirrings (then again it was possible he was imagining the small movements), but he loved putting his hands there on the off chance that today may be the day that their child moves. 

~~~

Crowley could hear Aziraphale talking to someone and wondered if he had allowed one of their human companions up into the flat for a quick visit. Still groggy from sleep, he couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. Then he realized there was a slight weight on his stomach, not painful or even uncomfortable or in any way threatening to the baby, and realized his lover’s voice was not out in the living room as he had suspected but right there in the bedroom with him. Crowley cracked one eye open and his heart nearly melted. Aziraphale was laying next to him with his head pressed lightly against Crowley’s bump, carrying on a full blown conversation with their child. In a way it was ridiculous because there was no way the child could hear him or actually understand what their father was saying and maybe Crowley was slightly tempted to tease the angel for it but another, more sentimental part of him wanted to hear what the angel of the eastern gate had to say.

The sentimental part won out. Damn hormones. 

“-Looks are not important. People should be judged for their personalities and character before they are judged for how they look. Still I hope that you look like your mother.” Aziraphale told the still developing child and Crowley had to resist the urge to audibly let out an ‘Aww’. Of all the things to be speaking with their child about and it was _him_. What a sap! “There is nothing particularly wrong with my appearance. I don’t consider myself handsome but I’m not grotesque either. Your mother though...your mother is beyond beautiful. The most stunning, breathtaking person I have ever met.”

Aziraphale let out a contented little sigh and continued. Crowley wondered if he was thinking back to one of their many firsts; the first time they had met, the first time they had kissed, the first time they said _I love you,_ the first time they made love, and thinking about how Crowley had looked then. “You don’t know how lucky you are to have him as your mother. Crowley, but don’t call him Crowley please love it’s disrespectful to call your parents by their first names, has the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever encountered and I used to work with angels. He doesn’t like it when I say that. He tries to come off as cool and unattached but he _cares._ He cares so much and he will absolutely adore you. He’s so good with children and, unlike me, he’s going to know exactly what to do to make sure you’re always happy and healthy and feeling loved.”

“I’m not as experienced but I’m going to try. If something goes wrong along the way, I hope you know that I still will love you and am doing my best. I have books coming in to help me prepare but books can only go so far.” Crowley had always been so good with the children from Warlock Dowling & The Them to the children of the ancient world who he had played with and allowed to braid the still long and curling locks he had at the time. Aziraphale had watched but kept a distance. Crowley had been comfortable in that element. He had not and would have to able his own skill set to raising a child and attempting to bond. “If you like books I can show you how to read them. In my own opinion I believe that there is nothing more relaxing then curling up with a good book and some coco...you don’t know why coco is either do you?” 

The more Azirphale thought about it the more it became apparent that the baby had no knowledge of food and that everything would be completely new to them. Their first experience and their experiences that followed would be milder and shaped by their parents, something that brought an almost mad grin to the angel’s face. “You don’t know what food really is. Well, we could have fun with that! When you get teeth and can actually eat solid food and not that mush they market for babies I can show you some of my favourites like chocolate and sushi and pasta...I’m not sure what the age cut off is for dining at the Ritz but I’ll take you there some day.”

Aziraphale leaned down and pressed his lips to the bump in a gentle kiss, “I can’t wait to meet you.”

Crowley couldn’t hold back anymore. His eyes were beginning to water and he felt like he had been holding his breath the entire time. He hoped and came close to praying that his voice didn’t crack when he spoke. It did. “You’re going to make me cry.”

Aziraphale lifted his head and gazed up at his now misty eyed lover, “Crowley? Were you eavesdropping?”

“Angel it’s not like I can’t when you’re talking to my stomach.” Crowley reminded him and dried his eyes off on his forearm. “You’re such a marshmallow. Just a big softie.”

“Well what else do you expect me to say to our child? _Talk to you in a couple months?_ I don’t want them to feel that I neglected them.” 

“That’s sweet and all love but I don’t think they have any ears right now.” Did babies have ears at around four months in utero? Crowley would have to ask Anathema about that later. Or consult one of the parenting books Aziraphale had amassed. “Don’t think they can hear you.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale sat up and crawled back up to the head of the bed to rejoin his lover, “Then I’ll repeat myself when they get ears.”

He moved in close for a quick kiss and when they pulled apart and murdered against Crowley’s lips, “You’re glowing.”

“I’m always glowing,” Crowley replied with a bit of a snort. “Plus I read somewhere that you’re going to be getting all proud about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“This article I read. Anathema gave me some magazines about it to start out. Anyways it said that expectant fathers will see their partners as beautiful because of pride. Pride that they were the ones who got them pregnant and that it’s their child being carried to term.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale’s face scrunched up. That was certainly taking the romance out of it. Whatever happened to just thinking that your partner was beautiful and exchanging regardless of whether or not they carried your seed? “Well I’m sorry to disappoint you, my dear, but I always think you’re beautiful.”

Crowley knew. He had just listened to his lover hush to their child about how beautiful he was. Hadn’t that been a bit of an ego-stroke? The demon smiled, “I’m hungry.”

“Breakfast? I can make you something to eat or we could order some food.” Aziraphale suggested and his eyes lit up as one particular food popped into his mind. “Crepes.”

“Crepes it is.” The serpent agreed. “What will you do if the baby doesn’t like crepes?”

“Honestly? Get a paternity test.” Crowley rolled his eyes and slugged Aziraphale in the arm. Not hard or in any way that could be interpreted other than playful. The angel just laughed and rubbed the spot on his arm, “Ow! I’m kidding! That’s when we get them interested in pancakes.” 


	9. Chapter Eight

_November_

As more and more of Crowley began to show he made the executive decision to only venture out into the streets of London as a woman. At home he’d switch depending upon his mood. Sometimes he felt more comfortable in his female form watching some tv and eating some snacks, and other times he’d be more relaxed in his male form enjoying a long hot bubble bath. It all depended upon the day. On the streets of London though it was just easier to pass by unnoticed in his female form. It also made it a lot easier to find an OB-GYN who wouldn’t ask unnecessary questions. 

Newt was left in charge of the shop for the day so Aziraphale could come along and they took the Bentley into Marylebone for Crowley’s appointment. Both Crowley and Aziraphale had already spoken over the phone with the doctor several times to go over things and make up for the time they had been unaware of his condition. To her credit the woman was understanding towards their situation. She even went as far as to state that it was better that they had realized it while Crowley was still carrying the child and not until after the baby had been born. That type of thing was more common than people thought. 

The worst part about these appointments was the waiting. For Crowley, sitting in a cramped and pastel coloured waiting room with nothing to do but stare ahead into the void and try not to make eye contact with posters depicting everything from conception (a sperm entering an egg. Nothing too graphic, unfortunately) to childbirth (too graphic) was the worst part (talk about showing all of the work and none of the fun). For Aziraphale, it was looking around the room and seeing only one other man in attendance. Aside from him and Crowley there was one other couple, a sweet looking blonde lady who’s husband dotted on her lovingly by holding her hand, stroking her pregnant belly, and whispering things in her ear. Sometimes they’d make eye contact and the angel would feel a sense of comrodory with the soon-to-be dad. They’d both smile, and nod their heads, and go back to their respective partners. But he was the only other man there. In all the trips to the doctor and all the hours spent waiting to get in, he was the only other man Aziraphale saw who wasn’t working there. Perhaps it wasn’t their fault. It was possible that the boyfriends, fiancés, and husbands of the other women waiting couldn’t get off work or were ill or had to attend to some serious business and were currently ripping their hair out because of it. As a matter of fact, Aziraphale was sure of it. Most of the absent fathers were simply tied up somewhere but it only took one girl. One girl who looked like she had shoved a beach ball up her shirt, whose hands trembled as she scrolled through her phone, who looked so badly like she wanted someone to hold her hand, that made Aziraphale hate the waiting. 

He closed his eyes and thought of someone, anyone, coming up the stairs and conversing with the girl. Like magic the door to the stairway opened and in entered another young lady who took the seat next to the unaccompanied woman. Years later at their wedding, one of the blushing brides would say that she felt a compulsion to come up to the clinic and check in on her brother who was working as the receptionist, and had she not felt it that day she may not have met her soulmate. It was, in her words, a miracle. 

Crowley didn’t say anything but watched it all go down with an amused smile and waited for her name to be called. 

~~~

Ultrasounds were a strange thing. From what she had seen in movies and on tv, she had developed what she felt was an accurate idea of what having one would feel like. She was wrong. For starters the gel the doctor rubbed onto her swollen stomach was cold as ice and caused her to wince involuntarily and squeeze Aziraphale’s hand. When the Doc brought the wand down and moved it around it tickled. But then an image was brought up on the nearby monitor; a staticky picture in black, white, and grey, of something that was hard to make out at first, but when Crowley was finally able to see it it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Beside her Aziraphale gasped and gave her hand a squeeze. 

The doctor searched through the ultrasound for anything that could be considered problematic. As far she could tell, in her professional opinion, development was normal. “Everything seems to be coming along quite nicely. The baby is growing at the appropriate rate, there does not appear to be an abnormalities, and is perfectly healthy.”

“Are you sure that’s right?” Crowley asked. Not that she was hoping to have a difficult pregnancy, but she had grown concerned. They were nearing the five month mark next week and so far there had been little to no activity. “I haven’t felt it move other than little flicks every now and then.”

“You’re still very early into the month. It could just be the child is comfortable where it is. All signs show that it has a steady heartbeat and as I said everything appears normal. When you come by in December if you haven’t felt anything by then we’ll talk about it further.” The doctor explained. Inactivity was unusual but not necessarily life threatening and nothing else that had come up in the ultrasound suggested the baby was at risk. “Now, would you like to know the sex?”

The angel and the demon exchanged glances. They both knew that it didn’t really matter. If their child was born and did not identify with the sex they had been born with they could change it at the snap of their fingers. But human parents would want to know. Human parents got so excited to know the sex of their unborn baby that they threw strange, gender stereotype enforcing parties about it. Aziraphale forced a smile that he was sure looked borderline unnerving to the doctor. “Sure.”

“Alright,” The doctor rolled her chair closer to the monitor and started scanning through the waves and pixels for something. She spotted it and pointed it for the couple to see, “See this here? That tells us that you’re having a boy. Congratulations.” 

“A boy,” Aziraphale repeated. He gazed down at his demon, entranced by the images on the screen, and felt a familiar warmth spread throughout himself. “Our son love.”

She tried not to think about it but Crowley’s mind couldn’t help but drift back to the man she had seen in her nightmare. The tall, blond man who had called her ‘mum’. She wouldn’t let that happen to him. No one was going to hurt their baby boy. “Our son.” 

“I’ll get you cleaned up and then you folks can go on your way,” The Doctor stood up and walked over to a counter set up in the corner of the room. She grabbed a handful of paper-towels and strolled back over to begin the process of cleaning the gel off Crowley’s stomach. “Any plans for the rest of the day?”

“Lunch and then Christmas shopping.” Crowley told her, “Although it’s going to be hard to go into stores and see all that cute baby stuff and not be tempted to buy it all.”

“I know. It’s all so soft and cute.” The doctor replied with a smile, “Well you two have a lovely day.” 

~~~

“Who are we buying for today?”

Christmas was an Angel thing. All of the angels, of every ranking, adored Christmas. So what if it wasn’t held on the actual birthday of Jesus Christ, they were ready and willing to adore any day where their boss and the son of God were celebrated and adored. Crowley, in true rebellious demon fashion, didn’t mind it. She wouldn’t go to any extremes trying to decorate the shop or go carolling or any of that overtly perky nonsense but she enjoyed watching those unsettling Rankin-Bass specials that they always aired on tv and getting their friends presents. They had a system. Aziraphale, being the more organized of the two, kept track of who they had bought for and who they had left to purchase for, while Crowley had a good sense of what people would enjoy and would pick out the gifts. The couple had made plans to do a large chunk of their shopping after wrapping things up at the OB-GYN just for the sake of getting things done before the rush. Sure, they could just miracle the gift, but where was the fun in that? After parking the Bentley, Aziraphale and Crowley strolled down one of the major city streets, occasionally stopping to peak at the windows of various shops. 

“Adam, Wensleydale, Pepper, Brian...I also thought it could be of value to get a little something for their parents. Boxes of chocolates perhaps? Something small and business-like.” Aziraphale suggested. Sort of along the lines of getting a client, or a business partner a little something during the holidays just to show that you were thinking of them. 

“That’s smart.” Crowley agreed. With the parents it was best to keep up the appearance of being a competent tutor. You know aside from actually teaching them things. “You’re so smart.” 

“And I think that if we see things for the baby that we pick them up too,” Aziraphale added, “We have to start pulling his room together. We also should start talking about names.”

“Names?” Crowley hadn’t put much thought towards names. “Well you know Damien is the standard-“

“No. I love you. I love you more than anything or anyone else on this planet but I will leave you for good if you name this child Damien.” 

“Alright then. But that means I get a Vito on one of your names.” 

“Sounds reasonable,” It was crazy to think that they would 100% agree on names and it couldn’t just be Aziraphale shooting down his lover’s suggestions. “You know Oscar-“

Crowley stopped dead in her tracks and shot her lover a look that would have reduced him to ash if the demon had not known better, “I’m using it now. No Oscar.” 

Aziraphale just smiled innocently and gestured to the cafe down the street, “Want some coco?” 

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Crowley replied and took hold of Aziraphale’s arm. “We could use a biblical name but I think that’d be weird. Considering we knew or know most of them.”

“Good point,” Being an immortal it was hard to think of a name that had not belonged to an old acquaintance. “Something celestial perhaps?”

“Celestial?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale held the door to the cafe open for him and they stepped inside, moving to the back of the amassing line. “Oh you mean like stars and planets and mythology? That could be cute.”

“Yeah, like maybe-“

“Nanny? Nanny Ashtoreth is that you?” 

Both Crowley and Aziraphale spin around to see a familiar child standing in the cafe doorway. He was wrapped up in a big, puffy coat and matching hat, prepared for a blizzard, but even under all those lawyers the demon and the angel could recognize that boy anywhere. After all, they had played a watchful role in his upbringing. 

“Warlock Dowling...” Crowley said in a whisper. 

The boy burst into a run, threw his arms around the woman, and hugged her. “I haven’t seen you since I was five! How are you?” He exclaimed. It was about then that Warlock became aware of the swollen state of his former nanny’s stomach and reluctantly took a step back to give her room. “Oh I’m sorry I didn’t know you were...”

“Warlock! There you are!” Mrs. Dowling appeared in the doorway as signified by the singing above the bell above the door. Her son had a habit of running ahead of her, something that had persisted even with age. She stopped when she saw what had brought Warlock inside the little cafe, “Ashtoreth? Oh my word you’re...”

“Hello dear. It has been awhile hasn’t it.” And just like that Crowley was back in the role he had abandoned so many years ago. Accent and everything. She gazed lovingly down at the child she had played a role in raising. “Look how big you’ve gotten.”

“Likewise.” Warlock said before he could stop himself. He saw Aziraphale, standing behind his former Nanny, hand on her shoulder. “Brother Francis?”

“Oh. No, sorry son.” Aziraphale stated quickly. But that didn’t explain why he, a humble bookseller, happened to share a resemblance to his former family gardener. “I’m actually a cousin of his. H-he introduced us.”

“That’s lovely. I’m so happy for you dear! You look absolutely gorgeous,” Mrs. Dowling all but gushed. “An almost angelic glow!”

Ashtoreth, who had played role of caregiver to Warlock and confident to his mother, just smiled back, “Oh Mrs. Dowling you’re too much.” 

“When are you due?”

“March. Some time in March.” Out of the corner of her eye Crowley spotted Warlock staring at her bump. Poor kid had never been subtle. It was one of the traits he had picked up from his beloved nanny. “You can feel the baby dear, if you want. I’m not going to bat you away.”

“Thank you Nanny.” If there was one thing to say about the positive influence of both Crowley & Aziraphale in his upbringing, they had both ensured that Warlock Dowling had been raised with manners. The child grinned and placed his hand over the curve of her belly. He held it there and suddenly snapped his hand back, “Hey! What was that!”

Crowley’s eyes widened. She had been expecting that. “You felt it too?”

“Felt what?” Aziraphale asked. 

“The baby kicked my hand!” Warlock exclaimed excitedly. “They kicked my hand!”

The baby didn’t move for Aziraphale. As much as he had wanted to be the first person to feel his unborn son move, he could not bring himself to be angry over it happening to his godson. So he just smiled warmly at the boy, “It’s almost like he knows who you are.” 

“Incredible.” The not-antichrist looked as if he had seen the face of God. He was bouncing on the spot, grinning from ear to ear.

Mrs Dowling looked from her son to her former nanny. It had been a long, long time since she had seen or spoken with the woman who she came to consider a friend. “I don’t want to impose or anything but we would love to have you out for lunch. It’s simply not been the same since you left Ashtoreth. We’ve missed you terribly.”

“Oh, that’s sweet of you to say.” Aziraphale replied. “As a matter of fact we were heading out to lunch right now if you’d like to join us.” 

“Sounds wonderful.” Said Mrs Dowling and opened the cafe door for the happy couple. “After you.” 

~~~

“Hey. Come here a second.”

Aziraphale had finished setting their purchases in the hall closet where any curious houseguests (The Them) would be unable to find them and popped into the living room. Crowley sat on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table, his hands resting on his stomach. 

“Something the matter?” Aziraphale asked. It couldn’t be. It was too early for something to be the matter. He entered the room and took the empty seat next to his lover. 

“No,” Crowley explained. He reached for Aziraphale’s hand and placed it beside his own on the bump. “I just felt a little guilty that Warlock stole your thunder.”

“He didn’t steal anything. It’s not like we have control over when-“ Something tapped the palm of the angel’s hand. He thought he had imagined it but then it happened again. A swift, sudden movement, not too hard but hard enough to be noticeable. “Oh.”

“He’s been doing that since we got home.” Crowley said with a laugh, “Didn’t move to the point where I was worried and then all of a sudden he’s David Beckham! Little boy’s gonna be a rebel. I can tell.” 

Aziraphale could feel him, their baby, moving around followed shortly by another kick against his hand. Crowley said he was a rebel, being mischievous even inside the womb, but that wasn’t what he saw. He saw their son putting the at ease. Reminding them that he was there. That he was fine. Aziraphale couldn’t think of any other word to sum up how he felt in that moment, “Wow.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a couple things:  
> 1) I would like to thank the lovely reader who offered to proofread for me. I usually respond to the comments individually every couple chapters or so but I didn’t want you to feel like I was ignoring you. Your offer is very sweet and appreciated but with my fan fictions I’ve always written without proofreaders or betas. I realize that it can be annoying to see typos in fics, and for that I apologize, but I have been getting better at pulling them out myself. Once again, thank you for the offer, it’s so incredibly sweet, but I prefer to write on my own.  
> 2) I wrote my absolute favourite line today and I’m so sad that I won’t get to share it with everybody because it’s for the epilogue. All I can say is that you Gabriel fans are sure to get a kick out of it. I wrote it on my lunch break at work and spent like the next ten minutes giggling to myself about it. It’s great.   
> 3) Nobody’s guessed the baby name yet. I tried to help narrow it down a bit by dropping some hints in the chapter. If no one gets it, it’s okay. I’m just happy you guys are reading the story, enjoying it, and actually taking the time to put names forward. 
> 
> Alrighty, thanks for reading and I’ll talk to you in the comments :D


	10. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Christmas chapter in July? More likely than you’d think. Especially when it’s a story where a character is going to give birth in spring. 
> 
> Also a heads up because a lot of people were happy to see him but Warlock is not in this chapter. He’s in the next one but his holiday moment with the guys was the last one. He’s probably off at some fancy rich people Christmas party.

_December_

There was another kick to the back of Anathema’s head this time much harder than before. The occultist groaned and sat up on the sofa, lifting her head off Crowley’s belly which had been acting as her pillow while they lounged around watching the usual Rankin-Bass specials. “Ow. Okay kid you’ve made your presence known. I’m backing off now.”

Crowley just smiled down on her. It was beginning to look like the baby had only started to move to annoy. He was so porous of that little nugget! A chip off the old block! But he couldn’t say that to Anathema without sounding a little bit crazy so he instead he said, “He’s protective.”

“Is he this moody when you and Aziraphale are having sex?” Anathema asked. 

“Aziraphale doesn’t put his head on my belly when we have sex,” Crowley pointed out. “And no. He doesn’t. He just doesn’t like you.”

“Hey, if it weren’t for me your parents would just think you were a random weight gain.” It wasn’t like the baby could respond but Anathema speaking with him like he could was enough to get a laugh from Crowley. He couldn’t read auras like the occultist could, but he could almost feel the warmth that came from his child being spoken to. His son knew when people were around. Smart kid. “And after I got you a Christmas present.”

Crowley tore his gaze away from his companion and back to the tv. They had it set to a channel playing round the clock Christmas specials and it was currently in the middle of the opening for _Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer_. “You think that little elf is gay?”

“Oh totally.” Anathema agreed. “He’s super coded. Has to be gay.” 

Sargent Shadwell didn’t know much about babies and that was when they were born to human parents who couldn’t change their genitals whenever they pleased so Crowley, a demon who had known for years, being pregnant wasn’t something he felt he had enough information about to comment on. He just sat in one of the lounge chairs across from the serpent and the witch, sipping some eggnog from a Santa mug and trying to focus on the program, “I don’t think that’s the point of the special.” 

“Yeah, the point is that it’s okay to be abusive towards people until they become useful.” Said Anathema. 

“True.” Crowley agreed. 

“I understand now why you, a demon, like these movies.” Shadwell should have suspected something when Crowley had seen the show about a little reindeer playing and eagerly clapped his hands together. “What about _Frosty_? Can’t hate _Frosty_.”

“He kidnaps a child.” Anathema pointed out. 

Shadwell places a hand over his chest to support himself. One of these days these two were going to cause him to go into cardiac arrest. “ _Frosty_ doesn’t kidnap!” If they were going to sit there and try to demonize the classics, he could play that game too. He had an ace up his sleeve. “What about _The Grinch_? Gotta love _The Grinch_.”

“I do love the Grinch. He’s such an asshole!” Crowley could relate. Especially to the live action one. As much as he preferred the Boris Karloff version, something about an overly dramatic Jim Carey just spoke to him. “The only one I don’t care for is that dumb movie where the kid shoots himself in the face-“

Shadwell knew the movie he was referring to, “Not a Rankin-Bass though.” 

Madame Tracey, Newt, And Aziraphale had spent the day in the kitchen whipping up various batches of cookies and other sweets, mixing eggnog and coco, and preparing the food for dinner. They all agreed that Crowley, Anathema, and Shadwell could not be trusted with any kind of cooking or prep work and had been banished to the sofa. Aziraphale came out of the kitchen with a tray containing some of the cookies, fresh out of the oven, and something for them to drink. “Eggnog?”

Shadwell took a cookie from the plate without hesitation but waited before getting a drink, “Got any rum in it?”

“No. Mister Shadwell, this is a dry Christmas party. For the children,” The principality looked over at his pregnant lover who was pouring himself a cup. “All the children.”

“Well,” Anathema pushed herself up off the couch. The sweets Aziraphale had brought out smelled delicious but she had been saving herself for the shortbread cookies her boyfriend promised to make her. “Think I’m going to see how Newt is handling icing those Christmas cookies.”

“Bring me back a snowman shortbread!” Crowley told her all the while shovelling a chocolate chip cookie into his mouth.

“No problem,” Anathema called back over her shoulder, “You’re the Donna to my Doctor.”

“I don’t know what that means, Anathema!” It was one of her nerd things. That was all Crowley knew. The doorbell to the flat rang and Crowley tried to get up to answer it. He wasn’t being successful. His knees felt like they were going to buckle out from underneath him and he grabbed onto the armrest of the sofa, “That’ll be the children.”

He may not have understood this whole pregnancy thing but the former witch finder wasn’t about to let Crowley strain himself trying to get up. Shadwell sprung up, setting his cookie down on the arm of his chair, and beating the demon over to the stairs. “You stay there Lad, I’ll go let the rugrats in.” 

Crowley sank back down into the couch with a relieved sigh. “Thank you Mister Shadwell. You’re a sweetheart.” 

With the spot beside Crowley on the sofa now unoccupied Aziraphale took the opportunity to relax for a minute and sat down next to his demonic lover. He stretched an arm around Crowley’s shoulders and the other man practically melted into his side, occasionally taking sips from the mug he’d poured for himself. “Is that coco?” Aziraphale asked. 

“It is,” Crowley confined between sips. “I’d rather have some of that rum-nog Shadwell was talking about though. First chance I get after the kid pops, I am getting _hammered_.” 

“You’ll like what Madame Tracey and Mister Shadwell bought you then.” Aziraphale said without thinking. When he realized what he had down he slapped a hand over his mouth and prayed that neither Tracey or Shadwell had heard him, “I wasn’t supposed to tell you.”

“Sort of like how I’m not supposed to tell you how the kids made everyone personalized gifts.” Crowley replied nonchalantly. If Aziraphale was going to work himself up over revealing something without actually revealing something then Crowley could at least take some of the pressure off him. “They’re all adorable by the way. Should see them. Well you will soon.”

“Are you sure it’s proper to do a Christmas exchange before Christmas?” Aziraphale asked. It did seem a tad...sacrilegious even if it wasn’t actually on the right day.

“Well we couldn’t expect the children to skip out on their parents now could we?” 

It was two days until Christmas. They discussed it and everyone knew that they wanted to get together and do something for the holidays but it could not be expected to have everyone around on the actual Christmas Day. That was a day reserved for families and while they were a family of sorts, parents took priority. The 23rd seemed like the most logical time; it gave Shadwell & Tracey time to travel over and reserve their rooms at the hotel, it gave Newt & Anathema time to visit his mother, and it ensured that the Them would be home to spend both Christmas and Christmas Eve with their families. It wasn’t much, just everyone getting together, exchanging and opening a couple gifts, and eating together. It was a small get together but even so it was the busiest Christmas both Aziraphale and Crowley had ever had, including the actual first Christmas. Hell, not even a century ago the angel & demon still spent the holidays by themselves, each too afraid to extend the olive branch and invite the other over. So they were busy with the cooking and shopping for presents and decorating but it was a welcome kind of busy. For the first time in centuries they had a family to spend the holidays with. 

“Fair enough.” Aziraphale replied. The door to the flat opened and Shadwell reappeared followed by a parade of tiny people carrying huge stacks of boxes that they could barely see over. “Speak of the devils. Can you guys even see over there?”

Brian, Adam, And Pepper each responded with an enthusiastic, “Yes.”

Wensleydale, however, narrowly avoided colliding with a wall and said, “No.” 

Perhaps he feeling the Christmas spirit and his heart has grown three sizes. Perhaps he had a soft spot for children and pregnant people. Whatever the reason the old witch finder was feeling the need to assist others today and took a couple boxes off the top of Wensleydale’s stack, “Here let me help you.”

A pair of bespectacled eyes could now be seen peering over the tops of the boxes, “Thanks Mr. Shadwell.”

The Them deposited their presents underneath the Christmas tree Newt and Aziraphale had spent the morning setting up and quickly helped themselves to the sweets that had been laid out. Pepper took a seat on the floor in front of the sofa and with a chocolate chip cookie in hand, looked her tutor sitting behind her over, and flashed him a devious smirk, “Been helping yourself to the Christmas sweets haven’t you?”

“Oh Pepper. This is why you’re my favorite.” Crowley told the girl and took a cookie for himself. If the girl thought he was just packing on the pounds, why not help himself? 

Adam flashed the demon a hurt look, “I thought I was the favourite.”

“It changes depending upon my mood.” Crowley admitted. “Know what? I think now may be a good time to let you guys in on a little secret.”

That definitely got the kids’ attention. Brian cocked an eyebrow and asked, “What kind of secret?” It may have been as intense as the kid was hoping for it to be if he didn’t have chocolate chip crumbs on his lips. 

“You’ve been keeping secrets from us.” Adam asked. Considering who it was this secret could be anything. More aliens? More merpeople? The fountain of youth? 

“Unfortunately. We felt it was better to wait and explain.” Said Aziraphale. He gestured to his partner who just grinned like the cat that ate the canary and munched on a cookie. “This isn’t the result of Christmas sweets and late night snacks.”

Crowley finished off the treat with two large chomps then elaborated, “We’re going to have a baby.”

“A baby....” Wensleydale repeated because he most certainly couldn’t have heard them right. Unless baby meant something different to ethereal beings. “As in a small...person?”

“A small person who happens to be part angel and part demon.” Crowley confirmed. Would it be too much for him to have another cookie? How many had he had today? He decided to save the rest for the children (at least until Newt and Anathema finished up with the shortbread).

“Woah.” Adam hadn’t been expecting that. He scooted closer to Crowley and slowly reached his hand up. Suddenly he stopped. It was impolite to just go around feeling people’s bellies without permission. “Can I...?”

“Go ahead.”

Adam placed his hand over the curve of Crowely’s stomach and instantly felt a kick against his palm. He giggled and the rest of the Them followed suite, placing their hands along the bump. They may not have each felt the baby kick but they could feel him moving around, shifting over. 

“Woah...” Brian murmured. “It’s like you’re that dude from _Alien_ but the chest bursted is in your stomach instead.”

“Or you’re the chick from the end of _Humanoids From the Deep_...” Pepper concurred. 

Having seen both of these movies and fully aware of the scenes both children were referencing, Crowley made the decision that when his child was old enough to start watching television & movies he’d keep a close eye on what went on in them. No child should have been watching that type of film! “Who let you kids watch those movies?!”

~~~

The children took the majority of the cookies home with them in tupperware containers. Aziraphale had the feeling that they would be in the mood for some sweets to much on the drive back to Tadfield and got the containers ready for them. Newt and Anathema left soon after with Shadwell and Tracey in tow, planning to drop them off at their hotel along the way. It was just Crowley and Aziraphale again in the apartment, the demon still lounging on the sofa and munching on leftover cookies while Aziraphale saw everyone to the door. Crowley would have tagged along but spending so much time on his feet with the extra weight lately had been starting to grow tiring. His angel reappeared at the top of the stairs carrying a small, thin wrapped box that bore a striking resemblance to the boxes of chocolates that they had gifted to the families of the Them. Aziraphale slid the box under the tree along with the other unopened presents. “Mr. and Mrs. Dowling gave me this when they came to pick up the kids. Guess they got the professionalism memo too.” 

“Sweet of them. Kinda makes me feel bad that I’m not really teaching the children.” Crowley said and took another bite of his cookie finishing it off. “Shadwell and Tracey gone back to the hotel, Newt & Anathema driving back to Tadfield, it’s just you and me now love.”

“Yes. And I thought it may be apt to give you an early Christmas present.” 

“You spoil me Angel,” Crowley said and attempted to lift himself up from the couch. He got farther than before but he felt uneven standing, like his legs weren’t his own, and wobbled for a few seconds. “Oh.”

Aziraphale darted towards him and placed his hands on Crowley’s lower back and shoulders to help keep him steady and upright. “Need some help?”

“I got too damn big too damn quickly.” 

“Well to be fair you did spend the ‘unnoticeable’ months completely unaware that you were even pregnant.” 

“Yeah well so did you and everyone else so nah!” Crowley stuck his tongue out and Aziraphale just rolled his eyes. He kept his hands where they were on Crowley and helped guide him further into the flat passed the bathroom and their bedroom. The last thing they needed was for Crowley’s legs to give out (they were unstable enough as it was) and him to fall two days before Christmas. They stopped in front of an old door at the end of the hall that, in the hundreds of years Aziraphale had called A.Z. FELL AND CO.’s his home, had always been shut when Crowley came to visit. “You kept it in your old storage room?”

“Not quite.” Said Aziraphale. He turned the knob and opened the door. The room was decently sized and up until a few weeks ago _had_ been used to store old books and souvenirs from Aziraphale’s years on Earth. Now it had been transformed. The walls had been painted a soft minty green and everything they needed to get ready for the baby had been assembled. A crib, an old fashioned rocking chair, a changing table, toys and books, had all been set up in preparation for the new arrival. “I had Newt and Anathema help me out with most of it while you were tutoring the children or out Christmas shopping. The rest, well, what can I say? It’s a miracle.”

Crowley slowly stepped into the room and took in his surroundings. On the ceiling someone had taken the liberty of sticking glow in the dark stars . Above the crib was a mobile of the planets that hummed a soft acoustic version of _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star_ when Crowley turned it on. He stood there next to the crib listening to the lullaby at a loss for words. Aziraphale followed him into the room wondering if he had overstepped. Why hadn’t Crowley said anything yet? And what if he didn’t like it? They could miracle most of it away but then they would have to start all over again and all Aziraphale wanted was for everything to be just right for them and their baby. “Well...?” He said nervously. “Do you like it?”

Crowley moved so quickly that Aziraphale didn’t have time to even blink before his lover had his arms around him and was smothering him with kisses. The angel was finally able to break free and exclaim, “Crowley!”

“Come on. I still got an early Christmas present I want to give you.” Crowley said, his hands looping onto Aziraphale’s coat and tugging on it like an impatient child. 

“A new book?” Aziraphale asked. He had been hoping to start _The Da Vinci Code_ after Newt recommended it to him. He said they were something of a religious thriller.

Crowley groaned. He really should have expected as much. “Angel...no...”

“Oh! Oh! Right on then! Lead the way!”


	11. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a cute and funny chapter featuring Crowley, the Them, and Warlock. 
> 
> Now, I know what you’re thinking; Femalefonzie, you have less than ten chapters left and the baby isn’t even born yet! You’re running out of time! Well, all I can say is the next chapter is going to be a long one. Don’t miss it! >:D

_January_

Warlock Dowling did not _need_ a tutor. Attending private school among London’s elite meant that he received the finest education possible in the entire island. The fact was he wanted a tutor. He wanted to stay in touch with the woman who had helped raise him from birth and who had such an impact on his sense style and humour that he was willing to trudge into Soho and live it up among the common urchins just to spend time with her. His mother couldn’t agree quickly enough. During her stay on the Dowling estate, Ashtoreth and his mother had grown very close. It had been a bad day for everyone when that fiery little redhead walked out those doors for good. 

Then Warlock found out that his Nanny was a demon. Didn’t surprise him as much as one thought it would. If anything it suddenly added a layer of perspective to Warlock’s upbringing. The lullabies about destruction and death, the statements about crushing insects with cold and callous indifference to their buggy lives, the violent video games; looking back Warlock could not believe that he hadn’t pieced it all together sooner. No, the thing he hadn’t been expecting about starting the tutoring sessions at A.Z. FELL AND CO’s was the growing fondness he felt to his fellow kids. 

He liked Pepper almost immediately. He came in and made some snide remark about her lack of fashion sense and she retaliated by pushing him over the back of the chair he’d been crashing on. That was last time Warlock said anything towards or about Pepper that could be perceived as negative. What could the not-antichrist say? He had a thing for strong women. Adam and Brian grew on him. While Brian’s constant sticky fingers and ravenous appetite was off putting at the beginning, his loyalty and willingness to go along with any crazy plan his friends came up with was enough to win over Warlock’s affections. As for Adam, well, he was a natural born leader. As much as Warlock preferred to be in control of the situation he had to admire the other boy’s power over his friends. They followed Adam without complaint and with only minimal questions, unlike the rich kids who Warlock had stuck close to beforehand. The only one who Warlock could not connect with quickly was Wensleydale who was far too big of a nerd for the diplomat’s son but he had his uses. A couple boxes of chocolates, a new video game, and Warlock had someone who was all but willing to work on his homework for him. So he may have started attending these sessions to bond more with his former Nanny, but in the end Warlock had bonded with more people than he had ever realize he would. Especially considering how they all were. 

As Crowley’s pregnancy progressed the lazier he got with his tutoring. With only two months left to go he had given up on actually assigning lessons and the sessions had metamorphosed into lounging around the back room of the shop with the children, munching on popcorn and other snacks, watching old movies on the television while the kids occasionally felt his belly to see if the baby was kicking. On this particular day Crowley was watching /Laws of Attraction/ (He would go to his never-to-be-used-grave believing that Michael Sheen was a handsome man, especially as a punk rocker) while Warlock & Pepper sat on either side of him, the others boys all laying on the floor and drawing as they listened along. Pepper had her hand over Crowley’s stomach which was now roughly the size of a beach ball and was feeling the movement coming from within. The baby had grown restless as of late. It was like he could that he was running out of room without actually being able to see it. “How much longer?” Pepper asked. 

Crowley wished he could have a straight answer for her, “Don't really know Love. We think around March. Depends on whether or not he likes staying cooped up for that long."

"Do you know what you're going to call him?" Adam asked without looking up from his drawing. From what he could see from the sofa it looked like he was sketching Big Ben. 

"We have a shortlist of names ready to go but again it depends. Sometimes a baby is born and you see them and think _well you look like this._ We want to get a good look at the little one before naming him."

"I like Orion." Warlock suggested. “Of all the names you put forward I like Orion the best."

"What about Mars?" Pepper asked, “God of war."

"Kinda bad luck to name a baby after the war God isn't it?" Adam pointed out. “Not to mention a planet."

"Nothing wrong with planet names." Said Crowley. In fact his favourite name happened to be inspired by one of the planets (well partially). It was only a matter of seeing if the name matched up with the baby. 

Pepper snorted, “May as well call the kid Uranus."

Wensleydale, who had amassed a collection of books relating to Greek mythology and had read through the majority of them, could not resist piping up with a correction, “Actually in mythology it's pronounced Ore-An-os. Terrible circumstances on the planet's name."

Being a boy with an unusual name Warlock couldn’t help but flinch on the unborn child’s behalf, “You're not naming the kid Oreanos. Are you?"

"Of course not! Don't be ridiculous Love." Naming your kid Uranus was like asking for them to get the shit kicked out of them at school! It was a cruel act, one that even He’ll would find mortifying. 

"I'd say Comet or Meteore but those sound like dog names." Said Adam. Then again he didn’t exactly have the best taste when it came to names now did he? “No offense."

It occurred to the serpent of Eden that one of his children, usually the most talkative one, had yet to say a word. Considering how long and how proudly Brian had campaigned for the baby to be named ‘Lucky’ Crowley couldn’t understand what caused Brian to be so silent. There was one way to find out, “You're awful quiet today Brian. Something on your mind?"

The tallest and messiest of the five children currently left in Crowely’s case sat up and brushed the dirt off himself. He was mumbling softly under his breath and though Crowley couldn’t hear what he was saying, it sounded like Brian was rehearsing what he wanted to say. That was odd. What could possibly get the usually bubbly boy so flustered. “You know we're starting those classes soon and they're going to give us an explanation then but I..." Brian began but lost his train of thought. He wasn’t going to get answers beating around the bush. Time to come out with it. “Where do babies come from?"

Warlock answered for their demonic guardian, “Fucking."

"Warlock!" Crowley shouted but the damage was done. The other children snickered under their breath.

Brian was undeterred. "I'm serious!” He exclaimed, “I would like to know. And as you are our tutor and currently pregnant, you should be more than capable to teach us."

"He makes a good point." Wensleydale pointed out and Crowley hated how right the two of them were. This was above his pay grade...

"...Right." The demon slowly drawled out. The answer to this laid with the children themselves. Or so he hoped. He just had to word it properly to avoid catching their suspicions, “What were you kids told about babies prior to this?"

All five children answered at once:

"-A stork brings them-." Brian said.

"-You find them in cabbage patches-." Answered Adam.

"-Kissing makes them appear-" Pepper put forward. 

"-You have to be in love-" Said Wensleydale. 

"-You get them by having sex." Warlock stated quite plainly, rephrasing his earlier statement. 

Crowley could with this. It wouldn’t be easy but he could work with this. Any demon worth half his salt had to learn how to lie his way out of a tricky situation and this just happened to be one of his greatest challenges yet. Crowley folded his hands together in his lap and tired to string together something that resembled an overarching narrative, “Well...you're all right. See what happens is...when two people are in love and start kissing this stork will bring them a baby and then they have to fight the stork to get it. If the stork wins then he'll drop the baby off somewhere, usually a cabbage patch, and then instead of _Oh hey look. Our baby!_ you have to go digging around for the little bugger."

6000 years of possible practice and that was the best he could come up with? If he was still in Hell’s good books, Crowley would be demoted for that one!

To his credit though children are stupid. The rascal who started this controversial discussion tilted his head to the side like a confused pet and said, “So what you're saying is...you and Aziraphale have to fight a stork."

Oh well. In for a penny, in for a pound. Crowley nodded, “Yes. And let me tell you after fighting Satan, a stork is a walk in the park."

Pepper rolled her eyes and gave her tutor a gentle shove, “But you didn't fight Satan. You just stood there."

There was only so much of this nonsense Crowley could put up with a day and the line had been well crossed at this point. He needed a break, “Why don’t you go have a chocolate Pepper?” The demon asked referring to the stash of sweets he and Aziraphale had hidden away in the fridge upstairs. 

"Can I have some too?" Adam asked. 

"Yes! Everybody go get the chocolate! It's up in the fridge!" That was enough the Them needed to get going, charging up the stairs like a herd of wild elephants. Crowley watched them tumble up the stairs, shouting and hollering all the way, and collapsed back against he sofa. “Those kids are going to be the death of me."

Warlock could not be so easily bought. The not-antichrist remained seated beside his former Nanny, looking down at the demon with mild amusement, “Or vice versa. Do you know how badly they're going to get picked on when they start talking about fighting storks in sex ed?"

"Would you prefer I told them the alterantive?" 

"It is the truth."

"I worry about you sometimes Warlock. You're a very strange little boy."

“Well, you raised me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been throwing around the idea of designing adult versions of the baby and a couple other characters who’ll you’ll be meeting soon in the Sims 4 because I can’t draw but want to have a visual. Anyone interested? 
> 
> Oh by the way I love the comments and everything and if anyone is up for doing fan art, go right ahead just remember to tag me because I’d love to see it 🥰


	12. Chapter Eleven

_February_

“Now you listen to me you worthless little specs of matter! You better grow nice and fast for my friend here or I’ll make sure you regret it! There’s a woodchipper down the block I can acquire in a heartbeat! You won’t even have time to photosynthesis before you’re mulch over the grass!” 

Anathema sighed and crossed her arms in front of her chest taking in the scene before her. When Crowley had offered her his assistance in helping the flowers around jasmine cottage maintain their beauty in the winter months she had been expecting magic, herbalism, and acquiring ancient gardening secrets leftover from time spent in the garden of Eden. What she got was a pissed off snake who looked disproportionately ridiculous and incredibly similar to a skinny teenager shoving a pumpkin under their t-shirt in order to make crappy and sexist jokes about pregnant women screaming and threatening her potted flowers as if they had just murdered his entire family in front of them. What’s worse, Crowley had been able to prove to Anathema that under certain circumstances planet were capable of communicating their terror through trembling and shaking whenever Crowley entered the room. Her poor flowers had been traumatized and he had only been in the cottage for a couple days. She suddenly felt a great deal of sympathy for the lush and verdant plants Crowley had brought with him into the flat. “Crowley, seriously? Leave my daisies alone.” 

“Just giving them a warning love.” Crowley waited for Anathema to turn and head into into the kitchen then jabbed an accusing finger at the trembling little flowers, “You get one warning. One. Then destruction.”

Unfortunately for the demon the walls of jasmine cottage were thin and Anathema could hear every word. She poured herself a glass of milk from the fridge to go along with the cookies she and Aziraphale had baked yesterday and took a seat at the kitchen table, “Crowley,” she called out to him. “Come sit with me. You look ready to pop.”

For now the daisies had been spared. Crowley set the pot back down on the windowsill and walked into the kitchen to join Anathema (though he would begrudgingly admit that it was more of a waddle these days). “I’m fine. One more month remember.” Crowley fist-pumped the air. “Wahoo.” 

Anathema took a sip of her milk, “You decided on a name yet.” 

“I have one in mind but I doubt that Aziraphale will go for it. My backups are pretty good though. Centuri, Nova, Andromeda-“ Something shifted and Crowley placed his hands on his belly, letting out a low groan. “Oof...”

Anathema struggled not to spit out her milk. Sitting before her at the table was a man she considered to be her friend yet all she could think of was _please not here. Just wait until you get back to London_. “You okay?”

“Yeah just some cramps. They happen.” At least that was what the good doctor said. All cheery and happy as if it was the most wonderful thing in the world. Crowley didn’t get it. “Right as rain love. Tip top over here.” 

Anathema slid the plate containing her cookies across the table, “Here. Eat something.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Most of the cookies had been boxed up by Aziraphale and the children when they went out searching through the woods looking for various critters to take pictures of. Part of some biology project. All Crowley knew was they headed out early that morning, Adam and Warlock carrying nets, Brian and Pepper carrying jars with holes poked through the lids, and Wensleydale carrying the cookies and camera. He selected a peanut-butter cookie and chomped down on it, “Delicious.”

“Are you still cramping?” 

“A little bit. Why?”

Anathema downed the rest of her milk and set the now empty class beside the plate of cookies that Crowley was helping himself to. She stood up and headed over to the back door, grabbing her coat along the way. “I’m going to go talk to a neighbour really quick. You keep an eye on that and call me if it gets worse.”

“Worse? What do you mean by worse?” Crowley asked but Anathema already had her coat on and was out the door. 

~~~

Without Anathema or Aziraphale around to entertain him Crowley took to bullying the plants some more. Sure he’d give the daisies a break but the tomato plant Anathema had purchased from a local greenhouse needed a stern talking to. Spraying the plant and giving it the lowdown on Crowley’s rules allowed the demon time to think about Anathema said. “Worse? What’s she mean worse? It’s just a little cramp. A bug bite compared to falling.” He said to himself. Or rather he thought it was just to himself but the baby took that moment to kick and remind Crowley that he was still there. “You get it.” 

The baby kicked again, this time a little harder as if he could understand every word that Crowley was saying. It was oddly relieving. “See I think your aunt Anathema just-“ Another sharp kick. Followed by another and another. “Oh. O-okay that’s a little worse. Made your point.”

Crowley managed to stumble back over to the sofa and drop himself down. Maybe he just needed to get off his feet for a while. Yes, a little beak was all he needed and then everything would be just fine. The baby thought otherwise and continued to kick Crowley’s insides around like a soccer ball. “Woah now! Woah now! Let’s just take it easy!” 

The kicking stopped. Replaced a sharp, shooting pain that seemed to erupt from inside of him. Crowley screamed and clutched his stomach, his arms wrapping around it protectively. “Or not! Anathema! Anathema!” She wouldn’t be able to hear him. He had to get to a phone and call her.Using a surplus of strength Crowley didn’t even know he had the demon was a able to push himself up and back onto his feet, stumble over to the landline, and punish the occultist’s number into the phone. There was no _hello_ , no _how’s your visit going Anathema,_ Crowley went straight to the point. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Anathema!”

Though he couldn’t see her face Crowley could sense the bored ‘I-told-you-so’ look from the safety of jasmine cottage. “You’re having contractions aren’t you?” She asked. 

“Yes! Get over here right now! Right now!”

“Alright I’m coming back. Just hold still. I’m going to call Aziraphale and Newt back too.” That was important. Aziraphale _had_ to be there if Crowley was going to get through this in one piece. “How long do you think you have?”

“I don’t know! I still gotta-“ It looked like it was easing up now but it wouldn’t be too long until another contraction hit. Crowley used this time to shift some of his magic away from dulling his pain (as in effective as that was) to shifting his body so that he had the _necessary equipment_ to proceed with the birth. Some of the lingering pain subsided and he let out a sigh of relief, “Oh...Oh okay...that helped a bit. Felt like relieving pressure.”

“There’s typically a break between contractions too. Didn’t you read the books?” Anathema asked. 

“I don’t read!” Crowley replied. His knowledge in regards to babies and children came entirely from what he had seen in movies and television and from spending time with the youngsters of the ancient world. He knew about contractions, knew that there were breaks in between, but that was about it. Shouldn’t his water have broke or did that come a little later? He should have read those fucking books...

If it were possible Anathema would have reached through the phone and hit him. “Well you should have because we have a problem.” 

“Problem? What problem?”

“Tadfield doesn’t have a hospital. Just a midwife and a couple of doctors who do house calls though not births. Anyway guess who just left yesterday for a week long vacation to Italy?”

Crowley knew if he sat back down there was a good chance he’d be unable to get back up and would end up giving birth in jasmine cottage so instead he opted to lean on the wall to prevent himself from collapsing to the floor. When he spoke next his voice was trembling and threatening to give under every word, every syllable. “Anathema, are you seriously telling me that the nearest doctor who can deliver my baby is in London?”

“Yep.”

“...Okay.” Crowley said and took a deep, long inhale of breath. Thy had to remain calm. The key was to stay calm. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You get Aziraphale, you get Newt, and I am going to go miracle the Bentley INTO A FUCKING JETPLANE! WHAT THE FLYING FUCK?! I CAN’T WAIT THAT LONG!” 

“I’m sorry Crowley but I don’t see any other way. Unless you know someone with experience delivering babies in Tadfield.”

Well...there was one person but it was truly a last resort. “...Get Aziraphale back here. Now.”

~~~

Aziraphale wasn’t one for getting unnecessarily dirty but there was something oddly satisfying watching the children and Newt splashing around in the creek of Hogsback wood chasing frogs and tadpoles around with nets and tying to get them into the jars they had brought along with them. While the six ran through the mud and laughed, Aziraphale sat on a nearby log with the camera in his lap, snapping pictures from the no-splash zone. Brian saw movement out of the corner of his eye and dove into the mud in pursuit of a large bullfrog that he held triumphantly up in the air for all to see. “Look! Caught a big one! He’s all slimey!”

“Excellent Brian,” Aziraphale told the boy and snapped a quick picture of Brian and his amphibious prisoner. “Now why don’t you set the little fellow down?”

“Okay.” Brian mumbled, disappointed that he couldn’t take the frog with him, but set him safe and sound on the first floor. The frog croaked angrily at the inconvenience and hopped off never to be disturbed again. 

Newt was in the middle of chasing a swarm of small fish with Warlock and Pepper when he felt vibrations in his pocket. He pulled his phone out, saw that it was Anathema, and answered it but before he could so much as say _hello,_ his girlfriend was screaming in his ear. The call lasted maybe a minute and Newt was scrambling up the bank to his angel companion, “Aziraphale! Aziraphale!”

“That’s Anathema?” Aziraphale asked referring to the sudden and unexpected phone call. “Thought she was with Crowley.” 

“Aziraphale,” Newt wheezed. That hill was awful steep. How did the kids manage to get up and down this every day? “It’s time.”

“Time? What time?”

“Time! Time! Crowley’s having the baby!” 

“What?! But we still have another month!”

“Want to tell him that?” Newt asked his voice involuntarily squeaking as he spoke so quickly trying to get the words out. “Come on we have to get back to the cottage-“

Aziraphale signalled to the children that it was time to go and they gathered up their stuff and started to the trek up the side of the hill. The angel and the former witch finder waited for them on the side of the bank and as soon as they were all together marched back out the path towards the main road. “Did they call the midwife?” Aziraphale asked Newt. They had to have done something already. They couldn’t just be sitting around waiting for them all to arrive...could they?

“Anathema did,” Newt explained, “She left town yesterday.”

“What?! But then who-“

“Ask Crowley.”

~~~

They should have dropped the children back off with the Youngs before heading to jasmine cottage. That would have been the smart thing to do. Then again Aziraphale had never been the smartest man under the pressure and neither was Newt so Dick Turpin pulled into jasmine cottage containing one angel, one human, and five children all squished together in a car that would be considered small for just two people. They pulled in just in time to see Anathema loading an overnight bag into the back of the Bentley and Crowley doing what looked to be an uncomfortable waddle towards the driver’s seat clutching his stomach. Aziraphale put two and two together and jumped from the car, racing to stop his lover from making an even stupider decision. “You are not driving!” He told the serpent and inserted himself between Crowley and the driver’s side door. Crowley still tried to reach around his angelic lover and grab the handle but Aziraphale forced him back, “Crowley, I’m putting my foot down. You cannot drive a car while in labour.”

“Fine then. You drive.” Crowley retorted and made his way around to the passenger’s side. While everyone was distracted some of the kids made their way over to the Bentley and clambered into the backseat. Rather than sit packed into Dick Turpin like a can of sardines they’d take their chances with the Bentley. Pepper, Warlock, and Adam entered the vehicle without arising any suspicion while Brian and Wensleydale stayed where they were. It was going to get crowded soon anyway with Anathema joining them. 

Aziraphale opened the driver’s door and slid in behind the wheel. Anything to keep Crowley from driving! “I don’t even know where we’re going!”

“Tadfield manor.” 

“Tadfield manor?” Adam asked alerting the angel and the demon to the three children lurking in the backseat. “The paintball place? What’s there?”

“A woman who knows how to deliver a baby.” Crowley answered him. “Though I may try to suffocate myself to avoid talking to her in the process.”

~~~

Tadfield manor had fallen on some hard times. Up until a year ago it had been a respectable place of business, popular for birthday parties and team building exercises, but the manor had quickly developed a reputation. You have one group come in and use real ammunition and even though nobody is hurt, your establishment still becomes known as _the place where all those business folk tried to blow each other away._ If Mary didn’t stir up enough business soon she was likely to loose the property and then what would she do? Go back to being a satanic nun? No thank you!

Mary was just finishing up some paperwork in her office when she noticed two cars pull up into the empty parking lot. Finally! Some customers! Setting the paperwork aside Mary leapt up from her desk and bolted towards to the front doors to greet them. They’d get discounts, free refills, whatever they wanted so long as they could pay! The former nun had just reached the lobby when the doors burst open and a young man and woman came rushing in. Mary stopped dead in her tracks. This couple didn’t look like they were planning a fun outing of paintball. They looked like they were on the run from the law or something! Not to mention that there was only two of them, definitely not enough for a quick game. Great. Just what she needed. More law enforcement involvement. “What in the world...?”

“Hi! Hi! Hello! Um...Sister Mary Loquacious?” Anathema asked trying to remember the name that Crowley had given them in the car. Sister Mary Loquacious, what an usual name. 

That was a warning sign if Mary had ever seen one. About ten people on the planet knew about her past as a sister and all of them had been sisters themselves so who were these people? “A long time ago. Why?”

“Well, it’s a long story....” The young man began, “but you see um...we have someone here who’s about to have a baby and we need you to deliver it.”

“Me?!” Mary exclaimed. She had been trained for it of course but she had never been given a major role in the delivery process before. Maybe it was because she had dropped the dummy a couple times in practice or maybe it had just been politics. It was impossible to know with satanic nuns. “They never let me deliver the babies...they never let me do anything.” 

“Today is your lucky day then!” The young woman exclaimed and the doors to the lobby opened again. This time a herd of kids came rushing into the lobby, followed by a man with an apparent affinity for tartan, and a familiar face that Mary had been hoping she’d never have to see again. 

“Master Crowley!” The former nun recoiled and took a few cautious steps back towards the stairs. There was no way she’d stand a chance against a demon! Even if it did look like he’d pack on a couple pounds since the last time they’d spoke. “Oh lord no, Master Crowley-“

“I’m not here to-GAHHH!” The serpent cut himself off with a pain filled scream and he doubled over in pain. The man in tartan held on to him and was Theo not thing keeping the snake from completely collapsing onto the floor. “I’m not here to hurt you. Please...I don’t know where else to go...”

“He’s having a baby,” The man in tartan explained. “Please. Help him. You help him and we’ll do whatever you need us to.”

Crowley was a demon. Demons could make things happen. Like restoring the reputation of an old manor to its former glory. Mary thought it over for a second and came to the conclusion that she had nothing to loose. Why not? She’d been a satanist for the majority of her life, could it really hurt to backslide a little? “Okay. Back here. There’s a guest bed back here.” She explained and gestured to a room down the hall that still housed some old medical equipment leftover form the manor’s hospital days. “Waiting people can sit out here, but right now I need him, the father, whoever agreed to go in with him to follow me back.”

“Alright.” Crowley mumbled and the man in tartan and the young lady who had come in ahead of them started to guide his way down the hall. “See you kids in a few.” 

~~~

The first thought racing through Aziraphale’s brain when he sees his son for the first time is _Oh, beautiful. He has red hair like his mama_. Then Mary wraps the newborn up in a towel and wipes some of the blood from his head and Aziraphale comes to the realization that his son _doesn’t_ have red hair but very, very light hair that stains easily. It is equally beautiful but unexpected a lot like the baby himself. 

“Well look at that. It’s a boy,” Mary said, wiping some more blood from the child’s face on the towel she was using to swaddle him. “Again no hoofies woofies or little tails or horns.”

“Well...that’s good right?” From what he had seen in the past few hours childbirth looked extremely painful. He couldn’t imagine how adding _horns_ to the mix wouldn’t end in a bloodcurdling experience that would end procreation entirely. 

“You wouldn’t think it be cute? Little billy goat horns?” Mary asked. When Aziraphale took the high road and chose not to respond, she directed her attention back to the infant and cleaned some more blood off the his brow. There was only so much swiping away at blood could do though. Adjusting the baby in her arms Mary headed towards the door, “I’ll get him cleaned up a bit and then I’ll hand him off to mom-“

It was then that Mary, Anathema and Aziraphale realized that Crowley hadn’t said anything since his son entered the world. A quick inspection of the demon found him passed out cold in a deep sleep. The angel knew that his lover was a bit of a deep sleeper but he had never seen him actually pass out in the 6000 years he had known the demon. “Is he okay?” Aziraphale asked. 

“He just pushed something the size of a watermelon out of a hole that’s smaller than a quarter without any medication.” Anathema reminded him. Not to mention the fact that demons were, for the most part, immortal and childbirth was not listed as one of their major causes of death. “He seems stable otherwise.”

“Anathema...we uh...Crowley and I discussed it and we would like to ask you if...” The angel rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. He didn’t want to think about a future in which what he was about to suggest became a reality but it was necessary. They needed to think about the baby’s future in case Heaven or Hell ever came looking. “If something ever happens to us we’d like you and Newt to look after him. Be his godparents.”

“Me and Newt?” 

“It was Crowley’s idea.” Aziraphale explained. “Something about you being the Doctor to his Donna. I didn’t really understand it but thought it sweet.”

“Here we are! Didn’t have any baby blankets or nothing but I had this towel and it works for now.” Mary announced the return of her presence, the newborn now fully cleaned and squirming in her arms. “Want to see your daddy? You know, you look a lot like your daddy.” 

“He looks like me?” Aziraphale asked. Or did she mean Crowley? Mary’s answer to this question was to place the baby in Aziraphale’s arms so he could see for himself. “Oh. Hello.”

His son was so small, so soft, and his skin was a healthy pink. His hair was a light, icey blond, and a furious mop of curls. His tiny eyes were open wide and looking around the room taking everything in. He had eyes like Crowley’s; a bright and fiery orange with thick black slit down the centre. He was the most beautiful thing Aziraphale had ever seen and the angel wasn’t afraid to tell him that. Tears began to form in his eyes and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his child’s head, “You’re beautiful. You’re absolutely beautiful...My word...look at you!”

A groggy voice sounded from the bed, “Wha...what?” 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said and all but ran to his lover’s side. He had to see him. He had to see their beautiful little baby! “Crowley look!”

“My god...” Crowley held his arms out and as much Aziraphale wanted to hold onto his son for the rest of his life, he handed him over. The baby seemed so small squirming in Crowley’s arms, but Crowley never looked more beautiful than he did in that moment; half-asleep, his hair a mess, red and sweaty, watching over their child with a prideful smile. They made this. They made this beautiful little creature! “Hello! Hello Little One! We’ve been waiting to meet you for a long time!”

“He looks like you.” Aziraphale told him. 

“What are you kidding? The blonde curls, the little nose, that’s you.”

“Your eyes though.” The guardian of the eastern gate pointed out. “Wonder if he’ll have your smile or your laugh. That would be adorable.”

“Hello,” Crowley said and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of the baby’s head, “You are definitely my favourite accident.”

“Adam will be hurt.” Aziraphale looked awkwardly between his lover and the occultist, “Didn’t mean for that to be as cruel as it came out.”

Crowley just snickered. Leave it to one of them to take the weight out of a heartwarming family moment. But it wasn’t complete yet. “Anathema, love, can you do us a favour?”

“Anything.”

~~~

Four hours had passed since they arrived at Tadfield manor and had been separated from the expectant demon. Newt and the Them sat in uncomfortable plastic chairs in the lobby, twiddling their thumbs and waiting for something to happen. Anything to happen. 

“Should it take this long?” Adam asked after he had grown tired of watching the seconds tick by. “How long does it usually take?”

“I don’t know. A couple hours at least,” Newt replied. He wasn’t exactly a great fountain of information on the topic of childbirth, “I failed health class.” 

The door to the room Anathema, Crowley, Aziraphale, And Mary had disappeared into opened and the witch stood there in her makeshift scrubs. Everyone waiting rose to their feet, their hearts in their throats, waiting to hear what had happened. Was the baby okay? Was Crowley okay? “Anathema...” Newt mumbled softly. 

The witch’s face lightened and she couldn’t hold back her smile any long. Anathema held the door to the room open, “He’s here. Come meet him.”

That was enough for the Them. The children erupted in cheers and went racing into the room, crowding around Crowley’s bed to try and get a good look at the little one. Newt and Anathema followed them but hung back and let the kids get a closer look. It wasn’t like this was the only time they’d ever get to see him. He was, after all, the latest addition to their weird little family. The baby was nestled comfortably in his mother’s arms, both of his parents hovering over him protectively but looking down on him with pure love and adoration in their eyes. He was theirs. Their beautiful and sweet little boy. Their entire world. “This is Mercury.” Crowley told the group of youngsters who had gathered around his bed, “Well technically Mercury Ritz Fell. Felt that he should have a full, proper name.”

Warlock snorted, “You did not name him after your favourite restaurant.”

“And the god of thieves. You’re setting yourselves up for something there.” Newt added. 

“I like Mercury Ritz.” Said Adam who’s track record with naming didn’t add much credit to his opinion. 

“Me too,” said Aziraphale. “And when you have a baby you can name whatever you want without us calling you out for your nerd references.” 

“I’ll tell Bran Saxon Device that when he’s born in the future.” 

“I like it,” Said Anathema, “His godmother likes it.”

“Godmother?” Newt repeated and cocked an eyebrow. It took him a second to piece together what that entitled and when he did he couldn’t fight the grin that spread across his face, “Awww.”

Anathema was having none of it. “Hey, _awww_ the baby. Not me.” 

~~~

“-So there I was. It looked like the end- Well not literally the end. It’s nearly impossible to actually destroy one of us but we can get discorporated. Not fun. Too much paperwork and lectures from Gabriel about how I’m wasting resources. You don’t know your uncle Gabriel do you? Good. I hope you never have to meet. Where was I now? Oh yes! The church! So there I was, books in hand, just been betrayed by who I thought was British Intelligence when in walks your mother-“

Crowley opened his eyes and found that he was staring up at a faded white ceiling. He rolled over into his side and took a look around the room. It was old, dusted, and dimly lit, but it gave him this strange and warm feeling in his chest. Eleven years go Adam Young had been surrendered to the Youngs in this very room, not that Crowley would remember. The numbers on the doors in Tadfield manor had long since been taken down and most of the hospital equipment had been sold off or destroyed by the demon Hastur. Beside the bed that Crowley had been occupying, in an uncomfortable chair, Aziraphale was rocking their newborn and finally enjoying a face to face conversation with him. The serpent of Eden found enough strength still within him to muster together a small smile and asked, “You really think a story about us blowing up nazis is appropriate for a three-hour-old?”

Aziraphale looked over at his lover with a gigantic, proud grin on his face. “It’s never too early to talk about blowing up nazis.” He promised Crowley then directed his attention back down at little Mercury, wriggling in his arms. “Look who’s up little one.” 

Crowley held his arms out and his son was placed into his loving embrace. Mercury opened one eye, as if he was confirming that it was in fact his mother now holding him, then shut it again and nuzzled closer. “Hello Love.” Crowley leaned down and kissed the top of his son’s head, “Did he sleep any?”

“Not in the slightest. I was hoping that me talking may put him down.” 

“It looks to me like you just found someone who could listen to your ramblings for hours without growing drowsy.”

“Fancy that. It only took 6000 years and a bit of sinning.” 

Crowley laughed and moved over in bed, allowing his lover the room to slide in behind him and get comfy. The demon rested his head back on Aziraphale’s chest quite similar to how their son was currently resting in his arms and Aziraphale snaked his arms around his lover’s waist. Crowley felt cold against him and Aziraphale adjusted the blankets around them to accommodate. Couldn’t have a cold snake so soon after giving birth. Aziraphale had no idea what would happen but he didn’t want to risk it. Crowley watched him work with an amused smile and let out a contented little sigh, “You want to finish it?”

“Yes,” It has been so long since the last time Aziraphale was able to ramble about the exploits of his demon without being interrupted. “So in walks your mother. We hadn’t spoken in so many years because I thought...I thought your mother may have been intending to hurt himself. I didn’t want any part of that. I should have listened-“

“I should have explained better.” Crowley interrupted with a yawn. 

“We hadn’t spoken in nearly a hundred years and there he was. The last person I expected to see on holy grounds, practically bouncing down the isle to avoid scorching his feet, and not only does he destroy the nazis threatening to harm me, but he saves the books too!” And for a moment Aziraphale was back there in that destroyed church, holding his salvaged books close to his chest, watching as Crowley left him standing there. He tried to play it off as nothing, as something he just so happened to be in the neighbourhood for, but Aziraphale knew better. He’d heard through the grapevine that Crowley was running through the mainland for the duration of the war. Returning to England, it had been for one reason and one reason alone and that was to keep Aziraphale safe. The principality smiled fondly at the memory of Crowley hopping down the aisle in the church towards him. Someday he wanted to see that again. Only this time outside so Crowley could actually walk. Or he could carry him. “That was it for me. I realized that I was in love then and there.”

Aziraphale looked down, expecting to see two sets of snake eyes staring back up at him. Mercury was fast asleep, which Aziraphale took as a win considering he had been telling this story in hopes of him drifting off, but so was Crowley. The demon had even begun to snore softly, one arm keeping Mercury close and secure, and leaning back against his angel. Aziraphale chuckled and pressed a kiss to Crowley’s forehead, “You spoke too soon my dear.” 

~~~ 

Something was wrong. Beelzebub couldn’t explain it be they felt something shifting in the fabric of the universe as they sat on their throne, going over some tax forms that Dagon had delivered to them this morning. They turned to a nearby messenger demon and instructed them to collect the dark council along with Lords Hastur, Dagon, And Ligur. Something was going down on earth. They could feel it.

~~~

Gabriel had been sleeping. He had been doing a lot of that since the end of the world didn’t happen. There was no real point to working now was there? The divine plan had gone tits up and he couldn’t bring the angel responsible for it to justice. All of a sudden a cold chill spread throughout the archangel’s body and he bolted upright in his plush, pastel bed. Something was going down on earth. Something big! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the baby is finally here and I’d like to hear what you guys have to say about the name! 
> 
> Thanks to Felicigra and an anonymous commenter (I love this story!) for suggesting the name Ritz which I thought would be a really cute middle name. 
> 
> Next chapter picks back up with the prologue so our frog boy Hastur is set to make a major appearance! I’ll see you guys then!


	13. Chapter Twelve

_Present Day_

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Aziraphale knew his way around a sword. He had been trained after the fall by Michael herself as part of an initiative to ensure that Heaven’s armies would never be short of soldiers. Everybody learned how to fight. Not only that but Aziraphale had done quite well for himself in that course and liked to believe that he actually impressed the archangel a little. Just a little though. Michael was not one to be easily taken in by how quick one of her underlings took to her lessons. Aziraphale held the plant mister like a sword; firm in his stance, weapon out before him, finger already on the trigger and ready to pull. He may have felt like _Dirty Harry_ if he was holding anything but a plastic spray bottle in his hand but some things were deadlier than swords and guns, “Put him down or I’ll spray you. Instant death to any unholy creature.”

Hastur gazed down at the child in his arms who had started to drift off (little bugger had no idea the danger he was in) and the crib. If he moved to return the baby he’d certainly be sprayed, but if he didn’t comply then there was a chance when they sprayed him, some would hit the baby too. Was the child immune to holy water like his mother? It was too big of a risk. “I’m going to turn around and hand him off.” Hastur explained, “Don’t spray me.”

He spun around slowly, half tempted to put his free arm up in the air like humans did when approaching a cop, but seeing as he still had the dagger that seemed like a bad idea. Crowley, gnashing his teeth together and hissing, stood behind his angel and snatched their son out of the other demon’s arms. “Now get out.” He snapped. 

“Wait!” Hastur cried out. He couldn’t go back to Hell just yet. Beelzebub would have to know what happened! Heaven, even _Satan_ was invested in the assassination that was supposed to take place tonight. “Just wait a second and I can explain-“

“Explain?! You were just trying to kill our son-“ Aziraphale shouted and that was enough to cause the baby in Crowley’s arms to stir and whine. It recognized that something wrong, that something was upsetting his father, but he could not place it. Had he not been staring down the barrel of a mister loaded with holy water Hastur may have taken a page from the serpent’s book and made some smart-Alec remark about the man with the knife not frightening the baby but it’s father raising his voice did. 

“Crowley,” Hastur said instead and his voice was the softest it had been in 6000 years. That alone was enough to dampen Crowley’s fire. “I couldn’t do it.”

“What?” Crowley asked genuinely perplexed. 

“I couldn’t kill him. I had the time, the opportunity, but I....I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“So?” Aziraphale demanded. “99% of the people in Mercury’s life couldn’t kill him. What do you want? A medal for being a decent person.”

Crowley tapped his lover on the shoulder and when Aziraphale looked to see what he wanted Crowley handed their son over to him. He did not take the mister which was awkwardly juggled around to accommodate the now very awake and squirmy baby. Crowley stood before Hastur, a couple inches from his face, slit eyes looking straight into Hastur’s black, murky ones. “You hesitated?”

“Not hesitation,” Hastur corrected him and handed the dagger he had been given to commit the crime over to the snake. Hesitation implied that eventually the action would be carried out. “I can’t do it.”

Aziraphale couldn’t quite make out the object Hastur had willingly handed over but he could smell it; rusted and metallic. “What is that?”

“One of the unholy daggers of Hell. I was given it to kill the child.” Hastur told him. 

The angel frowned and scrunched up his nose. Mercury, who had been watching his father but was completely unaware of what was going on, did the same. “That’s dumb of you to just hand it over then.”

The dagger felt heavy in Crowley’s hands. He had seen it once before, stored away in one of Satan’s personal and private arsenals to be used by the dark prince himself during the end of the world. He flipped it over. There was a sizeable jewel, a ruby as dark as blood, embedded into the handle. Such a weapon was one of the few artifacts in Hell that was genuinely worth anything and it had been charged out to Hastur. Hastur, reliable and responsible Hastur, who so freely handed it over to the infamous traitor Crowley. The serpent spoke so quietly that the other two men could barely hear him, “By Hell he means it...”

“You can tell?” Aziraphale asked. 

“I have known Hastur for over six thousand years and I have never seen him so much as hesitate to kill before.” Hastur was one of those demons that Crowley believed truly belonged in Hell. He liked to kill, he liked to maim, but his favourite thing was to light stuff on fire and stab them he carnage as people scrambled to get away. But, apparently, he also liked babies? That was unexpected. Then again him and Ligur had been the ones to take the infant Adam Young to Earth so maybe Crowley was just being dense again. No, he decided, it was definitely weird. “Hesitating, surrendering your weapon, what _happened_ to you since I’ve been gone.” 

“Nothing.” Said Hastur. “Just him.”

~~~

“Do you want anything?” Aziraphale asked. He couldn’t imagine actually going to the fridge and pouring Lord Hastur of Hell a glass of milk or a soda or somethingbut it was still the polite thing to ask. To his relief the Frog declined,

“I’m fine.” He said and took a seat on the old sofa. 

Crowley, however, was not fine. The serpent paced back and forth across the living room, Mercury nestled closely against his chest, attempting to burn holes clear through his former superior with his eyes. If it were possible for looks to kill, Hastur would have been a big pile of ash occupying the centre seat in their sofa, “What are you doing here?” Crowley hissed, “How did Hell know?”

“We could sense it after the child was born. Prince Beelzebub made plans for us to do surveillance, confirm our suspicions, and when the time came to...” Black eyes landed on the tiny creature sleeping blissfully unaware of how close he had come with death. Suddenly Hastur couldn’t bring himself to say those words.“Move in.” 

“Beelzebub knows?” Crowley asked. Of course Beelzebub knew. They always knew when he was up to something! They were such a fly on the wall. 

Aziraphale decided that scotch would be the best beverage for the occasion and poured himself a glass. He would have offered one to Crowley but his demonic lover had been strict about maintaining his sobriety in order to keep a watchful eye over their son (it wouldn’t be the first time the pair had gotten black out drunk only to sober up and realize they’d been stumbling around for a decade). At least until Mercury was old enough to (somewhat) take care of himself. The guardian of the eastern gate easily downed the liquid without some much as a flinch and set to work refilling his glass. “Heaven won’t be far behind.” That was cause enough to drink. 

Crowley’s eyes widened but he didn’t say a word. His mind raced back to the dream he had so many months ago, to that vision of Gabriel above him, holding his baby, taunting him. Aziraphale told him it was a bad dream and nothing more but seemed so vivid, so /real/...a part of Crowley had hoped that their baby would have been born female so he could negotiate the dream away entirely as stress from the unusual time but Mercury, his beautiful, sweet little Mercury, had been born male, and snake-eyed, and blond exactly like the man who had called Crowley _mum_. Was that what they were heading toward if Heaven got their pristine hands on their little one? That monster. With shaking hands Crowley signalled for Aziraphale to grab another glass and the angel complied without so much as a word. 

“I can have Ligur speak with our contact in Heaven and confirm it.” Hastur suggested. They were hiding something from him, he could tell. The frog could always tell when people were trying to hide things but that was as far as his detective capabilities went. Ligur was the detective, he was the muscle and even then he wasn’t so much as /muscle/ as he was _intimidatingly tall_. “But I would say you’re probably right.”

Aziraphale rejoined the pair of demons in the living room and handed Crowley his drink. He didn’t sit down, opting instead to stand behind the chair his lover was currently occupying. Not that he didn’t trust Hastur-....well no actually. He didn’t trust Hastur. They had no reason to trust him not to pull another dagger out of his jacket and stab Aziraphale in the gut the minute the angel tried to sit down. They were just being polite at this point; dotting the Is and crossing the Ts to ensure that Mercury wasn’t heading straight for a trap. “What now?” He asked. 

Crowley took a long sip of his drink. When he finished he was in dire need of a refill and Aziraphale set about getting that for him without question. He went and got the opened bottle of scotch from the counter and brought it back to the living room. He had the sneaking suspicion that they were going to need it. Crowley took the bottle and refilled his glass, We have to leave.” He answered simply. “It’s not safe for him here.”

Aziraphale expected as much. If Hastur has been able to find them then so would the others. The Bookshop was no longer safe. “Where do we go?” The angel asked. It seemed with reason that there was nowhere in the world that they couldn’t be tracked, “Tadfield? They’ll be able to sense us.” Not to mention out their friends at risk...

“I don’t want to leave England,” Crowley agreed, “What if they go after the others and we’re not here to protect them?”

“Look as far as we know Heaven isn’t planning anything right?” Hastur said, earning himself a nod from the two parents. “So that just leaves Hell. I know how to manage Hell.” 

“What are you proposing we do?” Crowley asked. 

“Allow me to speak with Beelzebub and the dark council. Call a trial of the child here on earth. If I’m right and what I saw was right, Beelzebub will have a similar experience to my own and let him go.” They may not even make it to trial. His centuries of faithful service to Hell had earned Hastur a rather pristine reputation as a demon who got things done. Some clever wording, some clever plotting, and the child may be spared without Beelzebub ever leaving their chambers. It was a gamble but it wasn’t as if they had a plethora of safer options. Beelzebub would have to see the child for themself to fully understand the root of their subordinate’s conviction. So they would have to prepare for that and hope for better. 

Crowley snorted in amusement, “You want to get the Hell seal of approval for Mercury?” It may have been possible if the baby had had a different mother but with _traitor_ and _angel spawn_ written across his forehead the child didn’t have much of a chance. In fact, you could say he had a snowball’s chance in Hell. 

“It’s better than nothing.” Aziraphale stated and polished off the rest of his glass. Hastur took this as his cue to leave and made his way over to the fire escape.He opened the window and swung a leg out when a hand was clamped on his shoulder. Hastur looked back and Aziraphale was next to him, looking down at the frog demon with perplexion in his crystal blue eyes. Hastur understood why. Here was a man fully capable of murder, who craved nothing more than revenge, and when presented with the opportunity did nothing but offer his services to help. Hastur didn’t blame the Angel for his confusion. “What did Mercury do to you to cause...well this?” Aziraphale asked. 

Hastur’s answer was simple. “He showed me the world.” 

~~~

Demons didn’t trust each other. That was a given. The only exceptions being in cases of mated pairs but even then that trust was not absolute. Beelzebub had seen many a strong, demonic relationship crumble due to that inherent paranoia. It was always the same /so-and-so thought their lover was cheating, Jane-doe thought that John-doe was blowing their money on booze or smokes when they agreed on something else/, it got as boring and predictable as a daytime soap opera after fifty years leaving the other 5950 to drag on with seemingly no end in sight. Still Beelzebub liked to think that there were some demons she could trust. Dagon of course. And Master Lucifer. Demons they worked with for a long time and had known personally before the fall. Demons like Hastur. 

Hastur was one of the few demons Beelzebub could not remember before the fall. She didn’t know who he was then, or what his dead name was, or why he even fell on the first place. What they did know about the lord of Hell was that he was ambitious, ruthless, more than willing to risk it all in order to get his assigned tasks done. He was the ideal worker, and wherever he went Ligur followed, so it was like getting two for the price of one. Hastur was violent, aggressive, his height ensured intimidation and when that failed the heavy black eyes and menacing laugh succeeded. So when it came time to deal with the little mess that the traitor Crowley had made on earth, Beelzebub trusted that the frog demon would be able to get the job done. 

They really should have known better. Couldn’t trust anyone in Hell. Even those you thought you knew. 

Beelzebub had been lounging on the throne, tossing a child’s rubber ball up at the ceiling and watching as the dents increased. They wondered when they would finally break though and create another hole in Hell’s unstable, mild infested, crumbling structure. They tossed the ball up, it hit the tile, and as it came racing back down the doors to Beelzebub’s chambers swung open and in entered the demon lord fresh off his return from Earth with Ligur right on his heels. “Prince Beelzebub,” Hastur greeted them. He did not curtesy. Hastur never curtesied. Beelzebub had grown to admire the fact that the frog wouldn’t bend to such a small, trivial formality, yet went along with everything else. Lucifer could ask him to carve _DICKHEAD_ into his abdomen and Hastur would already have the _H_ partially scribed by the time he finished with his instructions. “I need a meeting with you. I assume you’re not busy?”

Beelzebub looked at the ball that had landed in their lap and back at the other demon, “I was but it can wait. Go on.”

“I just returned from Earth.” 

“That was where you were supposed to be so good. How’d it go?”

“...not how we were expecting it to, my prince.” 

Beelzebub cocked an eyebrow and looked the frog over more throughly. Hastur looked exactly as he did when he’d left. There was blood staining his coat, his boots, his pants. He looked exactly as he did when Beelzebub had spoken to him earlier that day. The frog turned out his pockets and produced no dagger so there was no way for Beelzebub to see if there was any blood on it. But that was against protocol! No demon was to leave their unholy weapons on the surface world, and they knew that! 

Beelzebub was no idiot. They knew when to put two and two together and hope that they were wrong. “You didn’t kill the child?”

Hastur took a deep breath before responding, “No. I could not.”

So something had gone wrong. Beelzebub should have expected that. Crowley was a demon, just like the rest of them, that meant he was brimming with paranoia and fears about retribution. Of course he wouldn’t be so stupid as to leave something so dear to him alone, “Did they have guards?”

“No-“

“We’re they looming over it?”

“No-“

“Booby traps!”

“This isn’t _Indiana Jones_!” Hastur exclaimed and everyone in the room froze. Hastur had never raised his voice to Beelzebub before. Hell, no one had raised their voices to Beelzebub before. It just wasn’t done. To raise your voice to the prince of Hell was to throw your arms up in the arm and beg for death. Beelzebub considered following the normal protocol for this situation but decided against it. Hastur being a first time offender and it being a difficult case and all. The prince of Hell simply flashed the frog a warning glance that told him without saying a word that such a thing could never happen again and allowed him to continue, “It’s hard to explain why I didn’t kill it...”

“I think I get it.” There had only been one other time that Beelzebub had seen Hastur worked up like this. It stood to reason that the two had to be connected. Any other reason and Hastur would have just bottled up his anger and released it through burning things like normal. That did mean that there was nothing that the prince of Hell could do in the meantime to try and out the old frog at ease. They swung their legs over the side of their throne and hopped down, walking up to the two demons and placing their hands on both their shoulders (Beelzebub’s hand sank a bit into Ligur’s still healing shoulder but they both ignored it), “Lord Hastur, Lord Ligur, you know that our master appreciates the sacrifice you both made during the formative years in Hell. Though your contribution was...small compared to others-“

“This isn’t about that! This is different.” Hastur insisted and stepped back out of Beelzebub’s grasp, “Hear me out. The child is an abomination if that not correct?”

Heaven and Hell were not meant to mix. They were meant to kill each other in a bloody battle that had been predicted thousands of years ago and diverted less than two years ago. Anything other than that was downright wrong. “You are correct.”

“And Hell is about the unholy. The damned, the wrong, the abominations.”

“Again true.”

“Then should this child not be a welcomed addition to our ranks?” Hastur asked, “Should he not be born wicked?”

He made a good point bu the thought of having to endure another conversation with Crowley the traitor and his _precious angel_ made the prince of Hell feel nauseous. And not the fun kind of nauseous either, no, this was the Disney World incident level of nauseous. Beelzebub grit their teeth together and stepped away, opting to walk around the length of the room and think their options over. So Hastur, the demon who had been gearing up for vengeance and had to be held back by Dagon, Ligur, Beelzebub themself, could not bring himself to hurt the son of his worst enemy. Hastur may not have been trustworthy today (or at the very least demonstrated this) but he wasn’t a stupid man. He knew what he had to do had always been willing to do it so what changed? What had seen when he went to destroy the baby. Whatever raw power this child radiated...it could, potentially, be used to Hell’s advantage. The prince of Hell stopped mid stride and spun around on their heel to face the two other demons, “I would like to see for myself,” They declared and snapped their fingers. A small, pudgy goblin-demon came rushing in and Beelzebub quickly snapped a set of directions to them, “You there. Fetch one of Legion and tell him we’ll be heading to the surface soon. Lord Hastur, Lord Ligur, I expect you to tag along.”

Ligur spoke for the first time that evening and mumbled a gruff, “Yes Sir.”

“Yes your unholiness.” Hastur replied and watched as their superior followed the goblin out of their chambers and into the rest of Hell in pursuit of one of Legion’s many corporeal forms. The frog could feel a set of eyes pouring into him. Ligur hadn’t taken his eyes off his mate the entire time, “What?”

“Haz, I need you to be honest with me. This isn’t about Emanuel, is it?”

“No.” Hastur said a little too quickly for it to be fully convincing, “It has nothing to do with him.”

“Promise me.” Said Ligur. Not that mattered. Demons lied. It was a part of their nature. They lied, they were paranoid, and they could not be trusted. But that was the general consensus. Truth be told Hastur and Ligur had always been outliers when it came to their relationship. They keep their word. They didn’t lie. Never to each other. It was how they managed to survive the fall and it was how they would manage to survive the world that followed.

Hastur looked directly into his mate’s eyes and said, “I promise you it doesn’t.” 

The lizard demon sighed sadly and reached his hand up to gently caress his mate’s cheek, “My love, you’re not very convincing.” 

“I’m aware.” Hastur replied softly, “But you need to trust me.”

“I always trust you.” Said Ligur. It was one of the few times a demon did not hesitate to tell the truth and mean every word of it. That was how he and Hastur lasted as long as they had. There were no lies between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe you guys waited for twelve chapters just for me to write this bit full of puns?
> 
> I would like to take this time to thank Enny for giving me the best suggestion for the name ‘Emanuel’. You’ll find out why I love it so much in a few chapters. And to Enny, I just have to thank you again dude. I came so close to making that guy ‘Jeremiah’ instead and then we’d all have to deal with that. 
> 
> Also I was thinking about adding an additional chapter to give some backstory before the fall. What do you think? Exposition or extra chapter? Oh, or maybe a one shot?


	14. Chapter Thirteen

“Hello Mercury!” Pepper said, gazing down over the side of the playpen at the snoozing toddler. “How are you doing today little monster baby!”

Mercury had been laying on his tummy, dozing off and on, in the playpen Newt and Aziraphale had set up for him. When he wasn’t asleep he was chewing on one of his toys or peaking out over the edge and watching what his parents were doing. Such a nosey little child, though both Crowley and Aziraphale would admit that it melted them to the core to look up from whatever they were doing and see a tiny pair of golden eyes staring up at them. When the Them came up to the flat for their lesson that morning and Pepper peaked in over the side to check in on the tyke Mercury was half asleep, his tiny fingers wrapped snuggly around the soft giraffe plush Madame Tracey & Sargent Shadwell had gotten him. He opened one eye, saw who was talking to him, then shut it again and clutched his giraffe a little tighter. 

“Aww!” Brian cooed and reached in to tuck a loose curl back behind Mercury’s ear. “You’re so cute!”

“Can I hold him?” Adam asked. 

“Maybe later. Let’s let him sleep now.” Crowley called out to the group from the kitchen. He should have been out teaching the children something, watching a movie with them, doing something instead of sitting around his kitchen table with his lover and his closest human friend, sipping hot coco and waiting for a bunch of people who had no problems killing him and everyone he held dear to show up at his front door and demand to see his baby. Stranger things had happened, he guessed, though at this point in his life Crowley was just dealing with things as they were thrown at him. 

Anathema hadn’t taken a sip from her drink. She stirred the contents of her mug around with a little silver spoon and kept her head low, “What time is it going to happen?” The witch finally asked. 

“Don’t know.” Aziraphale answered for them both. He had finished three cups of coco in the last hour. Crowley was beginning to suspect that he was a stress eater. That would explain the abundance of sympathy cravings Aziraphale experienced when they were expecting Mercury. “They’ll arrive when they arrive.”

“And you’re just going to sit around here and wait?” Anathema asked and made no attempts to hide her contempt for the situation. They were playing with fire, trusting the word of a demon who did not have the best track record with their circle of friends to keep them safe. She’d rather handle this situation by fighting something. Couldn’t they just grab a sword and chop off the heads of any demons that came looking for trouble? Aziraphale and Crowley would never go for that though. Not with the children around to overhear their plotting. “Can’t we run or something? Try hiding?”

“No. They’ll find us love.” Crowley explained. His coco had started to grow cold but he had lost interest in it awhile ago. Brewing it had been just something to do to distract himself. “Look Hell is not to be trusted. I know that firsthand but I also know Hastur firsthand and there’s no way he’d say the things he said, do the things he did, if he didn’t believe them.” 

Aziraphale reached across the table and placed his hand over Anathema’s. “I’m not happy about this either but if Hell behaves like Hastur did, then it could be beneficial. It could keep heaven at bay.”

The Devices had never been big on organized religion but Anathema had picked up enough about Christianity second-hand to know that was an odd statement to make. Wasn’t heaven all clouds and cute little naked baby angels and harps? “Heaven is worse than hell?”

Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged glances. They didn’t have to say anything to each other to know who they were most afraid of. Hell had given Crowley the luxury of a trial and Mercury a chance to win their favour. Heaven would not. It’s hard to explain Anathema.” Crowley said with a sigh. “You just have to trust us. You know we would never do anything that could put Mercury at risk.”

Aziraphale nodded in agreement and added, “I have holy water hidden around the flat should the occasion call for it.” 

“And after you kill Beelzebub and a handful of other demons and the rest of Hell is chasing after you?” Anathema asked. Not that it wasn’t a good idea to have a supply of holy water on hand, it just seemed to be a bit short sighted. 

“We’ll take care of it.”

A knock at the door stopped any further elaboration on the subject and caused the five children circling the baby in the living room to lock up and freeze. Wensleydale backed up until he was standing against a bookcase on the far side of the apartment as far away from the door as he could possibly get, “Is that them?”

“It’s not the pizza guy.” Crowley said and slowly rose to his feet. Aziraphale got up behind him and followed his demon to the door. He placed a hand on Crowley’s shoulder and squeezed. They would get through this. They had to. Crowley forced a smile and looked back over his shoulder at everyone who had assembled in the living room. They were all shaking, obviously distressed at the idea of meeting some competent demons but they stayed. They had to see what was going to happen. “You guys ready to meet the Prince of Hell?”

It was impossible to be ready for such a thing but they had no other choice. Crowley sighed and opened the door, “Beelzebub! Dude! You’re looking...” Rotten, decaying, dead? Crowley looked past the prince of Hell and towards the other demons lurking behind her. Hastur was there and looking like his gloomy self again, Eric was standing at the back of the pack, and a face that Crowley had not been expecting to see stood with his arms crossed behind Beelzebub (albeit a little more viscous than the serpent had last seen him). “Ligur! Look at you! You’re almost solid again!”

“Crowley.” Said Beelzebub. “Where is the baby?”

No _hello_. No _how was your day_. No _what have you been up to since you derailed the apocalypse._ Once again the forces of Hell were straight to the point. There was no room for pleasantries in their line of work. Crowley held the door open and stepped out of the way, “Come in.” 

Beelzebub entered first, followed by Hastur and Ligur, with Eric wandering in behind and taking everything in like a tourist in a foreign land. The train of demons stopped when Beelzebub saw the worried human faces staring at them. “Who are these people?” The Prince of Hell asked. Reinforcements? 

“Oh. Anathema, Adam, Warlock, Brian, Wensleydale, you know Aziraphale, and Pepper.” Aziraphale listed off without thinking. It didn’t really matter though. They’d have to be stupid to try something with them in the room. “Oh! And Mercury!”

“That’s the guy I saw on that archeology trip.” Warlock said, his eyes locking into Hastur. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Hastur narrowed his eyes, “Oh great. It’s you. The pretender.” And here he had been hoping he’d never have to see that rude little boy ever again. 

Warlock looked like he was ready to throw down, completely ignoring the fact that he was a human child sizing up a demon who was a pyromaniac and over six feet tall, but Anathema quickly raced to the boy’s side to prevent him from springing into action. 

“I hope you realize Crowley that this was most likely a mistake. 6000 years and Hastur was bound to slip up sometime.” Beelzebub stated, looking like they would rather be anywhere else in the world at that point in time. Well they weren’t the only one. “Let me get a look at this thing so I can call it a day.” 

“Humans out here. Parents of the abomination in the kitchen,” Ligur instructed. “Eric. Watch the humans.”

The demon Eric seemingly materialized beside Aziraphale out of nowhere and smiled up at him in a way that could almost be described as innocent, “Hello. You don’t remember me do you?”

“Oh. Oh I-“ Aziraphale likes to believe that he was good with faces but he couldn’t or say that he did. 

“I was at your trial. Well not much of a trial. They just sorta tied you up and lit you on fire, didn’t they? Kinda disappointing really. First time in heaven and it looks like a big office building and all they’re doing is lighting people on fire.”

“Oh. Yes! Yes. I remember now. Um...I don’t seem to recall your name.”

“Eric. Well, Eric’s what I go by. My satanic name, that being the name that master Satan and my father gave me when I hatched, is Legion.”

“Oh.” He had to be one those demons born after the fall that Crowley had mentioned in the past. “And your father is who...?”

“Asmodeus.” Eric supplied. Aziraphale’s eyes must have widened or he grew visibly pale or something because the young demon chuckled, “Oh I got stories to tell about having him for a dad. Believe me.”

Out of the corner of his eye Aziraphale could see the other demons heading into the kitchen with Crowley carrying in Mercury in his arms. He had been so distracted by this lad that he hadn’t even noticed. “Yes. Well, I have to go keep an eye on them but Anathema would love to hear about the underworld,” Said Aziraphale and gestured to the confused woman. He felt a little guilty tossing her under the bus but he was not going to miss his son’s trial. He ducked into the kitchen before Anathema had a chance to call him back, “She loves it.”

~~~

Mercury had been fully awake when Crowley took him into the kitchen and set him down on the table so his former bosses could get a good look at him. It gave him the creeps, made him feel like he was showing off a dog and not his baby. This whole thing stank of Hell’s messed up rules and regulations that didn’t make any sense to Crowley because wasn’t the point of being a demon that you did whatever you wanted? The only thing that kept the serpent from grabbing Mercury & Aziraphale, summoning a portal, and flying straight to alpha century was the fear that something would happen to their friends if they didn’t stay. They just had to get through today and everything would be alright. But then there was a part of Crowley that loathed the thought of Mercury, his sweet little Mercury, containing any trace amounts of wickedness. He thought back to the man in his dreams...blond and tall with snake eyes...Crowley couldn’t let that dream become a reality. He would do whatever it took to keep Mercury, Aziraphale, and their friends alive and safe. 

“This is him huh?” Beelzebub was the first to speak and looked the child over from head to toe. “Looks like a cherub.” 

“It’s the curls. Under all that golden hair and roses cheeks beats the heart of a demon.” Hastur insisted. The frog didn’t want to think about what would happen if he had been wrong. Beelzebub would, most likely, chalk it up to a nervous breakdown but the baby’s future would go swiftly down the tubes. 

Ligur was trying to be supportive but it was impossible when facing the child that was supposedly _born wicked_. “Sure. What’s Uh...? What’s with the wings?”

“He sneezed and they kinda came out.” Crowley explained and hadn’t _that_ been a fun morning. “He’s just a baby. Doesn’t know how to pull them back in yet.” 

“So he just has the wings then?” Hastur asked. He had thought odd when he first noticed the baby but didn’t have the chance to ask. 

“We had to cut little holes in most of his shirts.” Crowley admitted. They were lucky that humans couldn’t notice them much like they couldn’t notice the demonic trait in their eyes. 

“That’s a bit of an inconvenience. Not really evil though.” Beelzebub stated. “The eyes are promising but that could just be genetics.” 

“Does he have any powers?” Ligur asked though he made no effort to get close to the child. After his last encounter with Crowley, the chameleon knew better than to get too close to him or anything he cared about. Ligur was willing to bet that Mercury ranked high on the list of things the serpent cared about. “Has he killed anybody?”

“He’s three months old!” Azirphale exclaimed. 

“Still.” Mercury sneezed and his wings fluttered. Ligur was unimpressed. “Cute but not promising.” 

“I’m going to try something. Bare with me.” Not like they had much of a choice in the matter. Beelzebub knelt down so they were at eye-level with Mercury. The baby just giggled and clapped his chubby little hands together. He had meeting a lot of new people today and as a result getting a considerable amount of more attention than he was used to. Beelzebub smiled and suddenly their face shifted. Their eyes went completely black, hollow, and soulless. They opened their mouth so far that it almost completely engulfed their face and showed off row after row of pearly white, jagged teeth. Blood oozed out of the corners of their eyes. The shift was so sudden even Aziraphale, Crowley and the other demons jumped. 

Mercury squealed with delight and slapped his little hands together furiously. Beelzebub held the demonic facade for a minute, hoping that it was just a delayed reaction, but nothing. They shifted their face back, “Huh. You know, I really thought that would-“

Mercury’s face shifted. His yes turned to literal flames that spread and engulfed his entire head. He opened his mouth and Beelzebub saw what appeared to be bugs wriggling around inside. His skin turned grey, gaunt, and stretched over his tiny skull. Beelzebub screamed and flung themself as far back from the table as they possibly could, “JESUS CHRIST!”

“FUCK!” Ligur and Hastur jumped back, the later grabbing onto the other’s arm. Aziraphale and Crowley stood frozen in place, helpless to do anything to help their child. The five of them could only watch as Mercury’s features returned to normal; the fire diminishing, his skin returning to its healthy pink, the bugs disappearing entirely. The baby just laughed innocently. 

Beelzebub dared to look back up at the little creature sitting on the table. They hadn’t been expecting that and quite frankly they would not be surprised if that little stunt took a couple centuries off their life. “...has...has he done that before?”

“...No.” Aziraphale had to be the one to speak because one look at Crowley was enough to know that he couldn’t find his words. “I saw him copying some of our mannerisms before but I didn’t think much of it.” It just seemed like cute baby. At least that’s what he had just assumed it was. 

“I wonder.” Beelzebub shifted their face again. This time though they made it look normal. Their eyes shifted to a bright and vibrant green, their hair grew long and a warm, hazelnut brown, and freckles popped up across their cheeks. The rot and decays faded and disappeared into the skin of their cheeks. Mercury tilted his head to the side and closed his eyes. His face shifted again and his features transformed into those identical the ones Beelzebub had just used. He opened his eyes and while they were now the same shade of green as Beelzebub’s, the slit of the snake still parted the irises. “Amazing. He’s a little mimic!” 

Mercury giggled, reached up, and patted Beelzebub’s cheeks. “Okay that’s pretty cute.” The prince of Hell admitted. They lifted the baby up and Mercury tried to grab onto strands of their hair. “You’re just a little imp aren’t? Just a devilish little thing!”

Hastur snorted, “Told you so.” People needed to trust him more. He didn’t fuck around when it came to Hell’s business.,

“Mark one down for Hastur.” Ligur added. 

“So,” Crowley found his words. Maybe it was the fact that the Prince of Hell, the second most important figure in the underworld, was holding his giggling son and smiling at him like a proud family friend. “What now?”

“I’ll speak with Satan. Tell him that there’s more value to having the child alive than enacting some petty revenge-“

“Hey, I died.” Ligur reminded them. He had died and a year after being resurrected was still trying to keep himself in one piece and heal. 

“And now you’re back. So shut up.” Beelzebub told him though they seemed less intimidating holding what was essentially a giggling stereotypical cherub in their arms. Demon eyes or not it didn’t do much to add to the child’s fear factor. The Prince of Hell adjusted Mercury who was still trying to grab hold of their head and turned their attention towards the child’s parents. “As for you two...how would you feel about outside consultancy?” 

“What?” Crowley asked.

“You see Hell could benefit greatly with the addition of a shapeshifter but it’s not really...”

“Safe for children?” Aziraphale supplied. He had only been to Hell once, posing as Crowley for his lover’s trial, but he had seen enough of it to know that it was not a stable environment. Leaks, mold, blood, decay, weapons laying about, fire, the overwhelming sense of dread. Yeah, try having a happy childhood in _that_. He would rather take a bath in sulphur than expose Mercury to that place. 

“Exactly.” Said Beelzebub. “So he would need to be raised in a _somewhat_ stable environment.”

“I don’t think I follow.”

“Look, I’ll break it down. We leave you alone, you raise this little goblin,” Beelzebub bopped Mercury on the nose earning themself more laughter from the baby. “and when he becomes old enough he starts doing some tempting for us. In exchange, you and your son have the full support of Hell. Protection, money, you name it.”

“So, what you’re saying, is we’ll both be pardoned by Hell just for looking after our own kid?” The serpent asked. If the underworld wanted to protect this child that they were clearly growing further and further invested in, they had to protect his parents. His parents who ultimately averted the war that they had been spending centuries building towards. But who could say no to Mercury’s little face? “Shit. I should have gotten knocked up years ago.”

Hastur rolled his eyes, “Stay classy Crowley.” 

~~~

“-So my dad says to me _Legion, you are literally a hive mind. What are you doing with only one boyfriend?_ And I tell him _First of all its Eric. Second of all you’re only saying that cause you don’t like Manny. You weren’t this up in my faces when I was dating Rodger from accounting!_ “

It was official. Anathema had lost all control of her life. And had finally become Dr. Phil. She nodded along with Eric’s story, taking slow sips from her mug, and thinking over the young demon’s words. “Well, what does Manny do in Hell? Maybe it’s a step down from accounting.” She suggested. 

“That’s the weird part. Manny’s a general! He leads one of the squads in Hell’s army and yet my dad is still like _you need to find yourself some nice boyfriends. You can’t just date this one guy_ it’s so weird.” Eric sighed. It wasn’t easy being Hell’s most disposable demon. Especially when your dad was one of its highest ranking demon. You’d think that could earn him a little respect, a little charity, but no he always got the shit work and now he had his old man breathing down the back of his neck over his choice of boyfriend! 

The crowd re-emerged from the kitchen and Anathema let out a sigh of relief upon seeing her friends still in one piece. Though that did not mean much, she decided, seeing that the one that had been identified as the Prince of Hell was carrying Mercury. “Hey!” She asked, “How’d it go?”

To her surprise neither Crowley nor Aziraphale answered. Her question was resolved by the Prince of Hell, “Meet Hell’s tiniest and cutest employee.” They said and bopped the infant on the nose, “Isn’t that right little one? You gonna go tempt some mortals when you get bigger? Yes you are.” 

Eric, who Anathema liked to believe she had gotten very close to in the past half hour, shrunk back against the couch he and Anathema had been occupying while they waited for answers, “Beelzebub you’re scaring me.”

This seemed to snap the elder demon out of it and she passed the baby off to his mother in an effort to regain some of their lost dignity, “Right. Yes. We should get going then. Come along Eric.”

Eric jumped up from the couch and eagerly rejoined his fellow demons, turning only to wave goodbye to the human who had listened to all his drama, “Nice meeting you miss!” 

They were just at the door when something clicked inside of Aziraphale’s mind. “Wait a second!” He called after them and the four demons went still. It may have been the first time in nearly six centuries that a demon had listened to an angel that were not Aziraphale and Crowley. They waited for the angel to explain himself and the guardian of the eastern gate continued, “You know, Crowley and I needed someone to watch Mercury next Thursday while we’re out. Would you be interested?”

Hastur and Ligur exchanged weird looks but said nothing. Eric seemed to be throughly confused by this whole situation and just kept smiling. Beelzebub, however, looked from Aziraphale to the wriggling baby in Crowley’s arms that was now having a grand old time changing his hair from blond to red to black. He was a fast learner. There was no telling what kind of things he could learn after one afternoon with Beelzebub. “Me? Watch the baby? Well I would have to check my calendar and yes. Yes. I would love that.” There was no point in denying it anymore. The damage had been done. It would not be long now until the entirety of Hell knew that Beelzebub _adored_ a baby. May as well go with it. “Uncle Bee will be back soon.” The Prince promised the infant and with that the four demons were gone in a poof of smoke. 

“Uncle Bee?” Crowley repeated when he was certain that the others were gone and wouldn’t be able to hear him. “They go from wanting to kill Mercury to Uncle Bee in less than an hour.” 

“Demons.” Aziraphale agreed. “You all act tough but underneath you’re all soft.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man guys I think this is the longest I’ve taken to get a chapter up. Sorry for the wait. Hopefully some demons being dorks make up for it. :D


	15. Chapter Fourteen

“Remind me again. Why are you here?”

To any normal person the group walking through St. James Park would look like a regular family outing albeit a large one. Two men, five children and one woman (or rather female presenting person) pushing a baby in a stroller walked along, carrying on what, to the untrained ear, appeared to be a normal conversation. If someone passing by happened to stop and really listen to the conversation they would be in for the shock of their lives. 

Beelzebub, under the guise of a female presenting human, answered Adam’s question. “I was asked to watch Mercury and Crowley said I couldn’t take him to Hell unsupervised yet.” 

The antichrist nodded to show he understood, “Okay and why are we here?” He asked in reference to his friends. 

This time it was Pepper who answered, “Because Warlock and I wanted to learn how to lurk.” And they all knew damn well that the group was not going to miss out on the opportunity to learn from some genuine demons of Hell. 

“And why are they here?” Adam asked gesturing to the other two demons, the ones he had come to know as Hastur and Ligur. 

“Because Ligur is the best at lurking.” Answered Hastur.

“And we don’t like to separate after-“ Ligur did not know how to explain to the children that their tutor had wiped him from existence in the most horrible way imaginable while his mate watched on helplessly without it causing some _issues_ between the group. “We’re married.”

“Oh.” Said Adam. “Can we get ice cream?”

“Yes.” Replied Hastur. His dark eyes then fell on Warlock lagging near the back of the group. “Except you.”

“What did I do?” 

“I don’t like you.”

“Feeling’s mutual bitch.” Warlock replied and was about to flash Hastur the finger when a thought came upon him. “What if I do the best lurking? Can you spring me an ice cream then?” 

“We’ll talk.”

~~~

“Alright so the key thing to lurking is to make yourself practically invisible. Emphasis on the practically. People have to see just enough of you to get scared...”

The group found a fairly open spot in the park and Ligur along with the children separated from Hastur and Beelzebub to get some lessons in lurking in. They found a spot near some brush that would work perfectly as cover. Hastur and Beelzebub sat a couple yards away on a park bench where they would have a nice view of Ligur and the children at work. Beelzebub lifted Mercury from his stroller and held the child in her lap so he could see his young friends too. He didn’t seem to mind the switch and snuggled close to Beelzebub’s abdomen, completely unaware (and would remain unaware for the rest of his existence) that the person holding him so lovingly had once intended to kill him. Hastur considered lighting a cigarette but decided against it for Mercury’s sake. “It’s weird seeing you with that baby.” He told the other demon. Seeing the switch flipped from _stoic and cold to uncle of the year_ had been unnerving to say the least. “Have you never been around them before?”

“Have you?” Beelzebub asked. Hastur didn’t reply and stared at his mate with the humans. “Right. Dumb question.” 

They didn’t talk for a few minutes just listened to the children imitating Ligur and giggling. Adam seemed to have given up on the lesson to climb a tree instead. Beelzebub was the one to break the silence, “...you could try and talk to him, you know?” 

Hastur would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it but Beelzebub did not need to know that. “I’m not sure he’d want to see us.” 

“You had just fallen. You were...scared,” Hastur shot Beelzebub a look and while the later was of higher authority, they decided to rephrase their words. “ _Confused_ , everyone was. You did what you had to do to survive in that moment. He can’t hold that against you.”

He very well could and both Beelzebub and Hastur knew that. Across the way Ligur lifted Wensleydale up onto his shoulders so the smaller boy could join Adam up in the tree without having to struggle to climb it. They had given up on lurking opting instead to watch with eager grins. “He’s good with them, isn’t he?” Hastur asked. 

“Yes. I’m surprised.” Beelzebub admitted. They would have thought that, still being in a state of disarray, that Ligur wouldn’t be putting in so much effort but there he was lifting the children up, getting low to the ground with them, grinning and encouraging their efforts in the art of lurking. He had gone several hours now without a part of him falling off or complaining about his brief state of nonexistence. “Being out and about seems to be helping him heal up too.”

“Do you ever think about it?” 

“About what?”

“It.” And it was all Hastur had to say. They both knew what _it_ was. The lives they had lost, the identities that had been stripped from them. It was impossible not to forget about that. “You had a life up there. From what I recall you and Gabriel used to be-“

“That will be enough of that. You don’t want to go about opening old wounds do you _Raziel_?”

Hastur winced. He hadn’t heard that name in a long time. “Understood.” 

“Did it hurt?”

“What?”

“Did it hurt?” His superior repeated. “Haven’t you heard the mortals’ story? That women are forced to endure painful births because they listened to the snake and ate of the forbidden fruit?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” The frog demon asked. “How is that related to childbirth?”

“It’s a punishment.” Beelzebub explained. “Huh. Crowley caught himself in his own web.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Hastur said with a sigh. Brian, Warlock, and Pepper were crouching behind some bushes and spying on some women jogging through the park. Nearby Ligur was watching with Adam and Wensleydale and nodding In approval. He was a good teacher. In another life he would have been a good father. “It hurt but not for that reason. If I hadn’t been flung out of heaven and hurtled thousands of feet towards the earth I bet it would have been _peachy_.”

“Peaches do sound good right now.” Beelzebub replied ignoring the sarcasm sipping into Hastur’s words. “Think they have peach ice cream?”

The demon lord did a quick scan of the park, his eyes falling on an ice cream cart parked a couple yards away in the shade under some trees. He couldn’t read the menu from this far but they could always just look when they got up closer. He looked back at Ligur in the children. Pepper and Brian had returned to their tutor while Warlock pursued his targets even further into the park. Despite himself Hastur smiled. “We did promise them some. Let’s go have a look.” 

Beelzebub rose to their feet and cooed down at the child in their arms, “And we can get you something too yes? Wait can we? At what age do babies eat ice cream and it’s okay? Oh my Satan, Hastur what if we make him lactose intolerant?”

“Is that even possible?” Hastur asked. 

Fuck if either of them knew. “We’ll ask the children to google it.” Beelzebub decided. Those kids were beginning to prove valuable to the underworld, which still maintained a healthy ignorance of all things technical despite the growing need for change. Adam Young May not have ended the world but he knew how to use search engines and that was good enough.

~~~

“How do you think they’re getting on?”

Crowley downed the rest of his drink and hiccuped before responding, “If Warlock And Hastur haven’t killed each other yet...super.” 

This was wonderful. How long had it been since he and his angel had gotten smashed together? Had to be a couple weeks before Mercury had been conceived. They sat together in the living room above the bookshop, pouring back glasses of old whiskey like they did in the days before the whole antichrist business. Wasn’t it wonderful having so many potential babysitters for your child? 

Aziraphale grabbed an unopened bottle of whiskey from the supply he had brought up from storage (just for the occasion) and popped the seal. “I must say your side is far more...nurturing than I would have expected.”

“Well has anyone in heaven ever even held a baby before?” Crowley asked and held his glass out for Aziraphale to refill it. “No baby angels but plenty of baby demons.” 

He had a point. Unless you counted the cherubim, no one in heaven had ever actually come into physical contact with a baby (and Aziraphale did not count the cherubs. Though small and cute they were fiery and unpredictable. Should the apocalypse have proceeded, business as normal, Hell would have found their greatest threat to be the curly haired cupids descending upon them in wave after wave like a tiny and adorable plague of locusts). Topping off his own glass and taking a sip, Aziraphale set the bottle down on the coffee table. “Want to fool around?” 

“Yessss!” Crowley replied and polished off his newly refilled glass. He set it aside and made his way over to his lover, crawling into his lap and practically _purring_ with anticipation. “I have been longing for this moment for...fuck I forget how long. Maybe there’s some truth to the old myth.”

“What old myth?”

“That being pregnant and having a baby makes you dumber.” Crowley explained and tapped his forehead. “Drains the old IQ points.” 

“I’m sure that’s just an old superstition.” Aziraphale insisted. Out off the corner of his eye he noticed something weird. Next to the bottle on the coffee table was a small box gift wrapped in powder blue wrapping paper with a pretty ribbon and little card in front. Drunk or not Aziraphale would have noticed if that had been there when he first set the bottle down. Wouldn’t he? “Huh. What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

Aziraphale gently moved Crowley off his lap and headed over to the table. The box was in the centre of the table, almost immaculately placed. “It’s a package and a note.

Maybe one of the children had left it before heading out with the demons for their lurking lessons that morning and Aziraphale had simply just failed to notice it. He undid the ribbon and took the lid off the box. There was only one object inside which he listed up for Crowley to see and weigh in on. 

“An angel?” Crowley asked. Sure enough, inside the box had been a small, plush angel with soft yellow hair and faux-feathery wings. Though there was no tags it appeared to be tailored towards young children. “What’s the note say?” 

Aziraphale plucked the card from its spot in front of the box and his face went completely white. “Oh no...”

“What?! What?! Let me see-“ Crowley’s words died in his throat, replaced by a gut wrenching scream. He tumbled to the floor. Perhaps he was being over dramatic, more likely he was not. Instead his mind raced with thoughts of blood, of London destroyed, of Gabriel flying over him, covered in the blood of Crowley’s loved ones. His worst nightmare was becoming reality before his eyes. 

The note was simple. Only two words written in beautiful calligraphy, printed in a light blue ink. Two words that were enough to bring the serpent of Eden and the guardian of the eastern gate to their knees:

_We Know_. 


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was such a bitch to write. Hopefully I get some speed going with the next ones.

Michael put up with a lot of shit. More than her fair share really, what with being the first and therefore oldest of all the angels (and, by extension of that, all demons) but there were some lines that she believed were uncrossable. In this existence there were some things that angels recognized as sacred and out of their control, and things that they dared not do. Killing babies was one of them. So be woken up in the middle of what was supposed to be a thousand year sleep by Gabriel throwing himself onto her bed (and by extension of that, her), ranting about some baby on Earth that needed to be removed, was definitely some shit that the archangel had not been expecting. “I am going to need you to repeat everything you just said to me because I’m 98% certain that I misheard you.”

Gabriel had tried to pull Michael out of bed but despite being physically larger in stature than his older sibling, Michael was stronger than him. She remained in bed in a pair of flannel pyjamas rubbing her forehead and longing for the brief moments in existence where she had been an only child. Gabriel say next to her on his knees, valiantly shaking her to keep her from drifting off on him, “We’re going to smite the abomination. What’s hard to understand about that?”

Michael groaned and pulled a pillow over her head, “Perhaps the fact that your _abomination_ is an innocent child-“

“Baby.” Gabriel corrected her.

“Does that make it any better?” Michael asked and hurled her pillow straight at her brother’s head. It smacked him in the face but being a pillow stuffed with feathers of exotic birds it did nothing to stop him. “Honestly Gabriel, there are days I think the rebellion claimed whatever brain cells you were made with.” 

The younger of the two angels poured, “Rude.” He mumbled but quickly regained his composure and continued, “Look this kid is part demon and part angel. Part Crowley, part Aziraphale. It has no right to exist-“

“But angels and demons are not that different. We were all made of the same stock.” Michael reminded him. “Or are you forgetting that?”

Gabriel flinched and withdrew back to the small corner of the bed he sought fit to occupy. It was a low blow, Michael knew that, but she also knew damn well that she was going to have no part in the murder of some defenceless child. “Hitting below the belt Michael.” Gabriel finally said after a few minutes of silence and starring off into the abyss. “Don’t act like you weren’t hurt by the fall too. Tell me, how’s Jehoel doing these days? I know you still keep in contact with him.” 

“He’s fine. How is Akriel?” If this was her brother’s attempt at a clap-back he would have to do much better. Michael no longer hid her connections with the underworld and she would not take any shit for that from _Gabriel_ of all people. 

Perhaps it was a bit underhanded to mention her brother’s ex.lover but Michael was tired. If he wasn’t being such a bastard she would have never stopped so low. 

Gabriel threw his hands up and exclaimed, “Look I don’t know what you want from me Michael. We’re going to go kill that baby! It a living monument to sin!” 

“It’s also your nephew.” Michael reminded him. “ _Our_ nephew.”

“Do not go there.”

“I’m going there.” Being the oldest cams with a few, unexpected perks. Like not having to listen to those younger than you. As much as she hated the bullshit that came with the title, Michael was eternally grateful that she never had to _fully_ listen to her brother. “By killing that child you are killing one of the few pieces of flesh and blood the almighty allowed us to have-“

“He is not my nephew and Crowley is not our brother.” Gabriel spat through clenched teeth. “Our brother is dead.” 

“Look into his eyes when you go for his son and then tell me that.” 

“They’re not his eyes.” Gabriel hissed and stood up from the bed. Michael may have made an effort to chase him had she not been so committed to returning to her slumber. The other angel stomped away like a toddler in dispute with its sibling would, pausing only at the door to snarl back, “And quite frankly, dear sister, I could not care less.” 

~~~

Anathema did not think her twenties would be spent in the living room of an angel and a demon in London Soho surrounded by other demons in a perpetual state of planning, preparing, and worrying, but here she was. Most of the time she understood Crowley and Aziraphale’s need for vigilance. Demons coming to do a surprise inspection on your son was something she would be worried about too but this? Quite frankly she didn’t see the cause for all the alarm. “I mean it’s not as if they sent you a bomb,” she said, clutching the tiny plush angel in one hand. It flopped around like a rag doll. How _menacing._ “A cute stuffie...not exactly threatening.”

Luckily for her ethereal friends the other demons agreed with them. After coming back from the park and waiting for the children’s parents to take them home, everyone was briefed on what had happened. So there they stood one witch, one excommunicated (but not fallen) Angel, and four demons are of high ranking status, standing around the living room passing around a stuffed angel while Mercury slept peacefully unaware in his bed. 

“It’s meant as insult.” Beelzebub warned her, “Heaven does not have good intentions fair human, believe me.”

“They’re going to come for us.” Crowley had been sitting on the couch starring up at the ceiling since everyone arrived. He refused to look anywhere else. Aziraphale sat beside him, torn between his concern for their son and his growing concern for Crowley, “For him.”

“So we move him.” Ligur our forward. It seemed like the simplest solution to him. Put Mercury somewhere Heaven could not reach and he would be safe. “He’ll be safe... _safer_ in the underworld.” 

“No.” Aziraphale said firmly. “We don’t know how much Angel is in him. What if he is weak against the unholy fires? It could kill him.” 

“Earth is his domain and earth is his only home.” Crowley added though he still had that chilling, glossed over look in his eyes. It was as if he were only half there. “He will burn with it.”

The guardian of the eastern gate sighed and wiped some sweat off his brow. The flat was cool but for a few very obvious reasons the Angel was feeling a bit overheated. One of those reasons was laying back on the couch as if he were waiting for god to strike him down into dust at any moment. Aziraphale understood why that was but it was still something he would rather not have to worry about at this point in time. “Can you not talk like that please.” 

“I saw it.” Was Crowley’s response. “I told you that I saw it. You told me that it was all a dream. Well who’s dreaming now?!” 

“Crowley-“ Aziraphale tried to say but he couldn’t find the words that would comfort his love. Crowley was too worked up right now to listen to him anyway. Beelzebub flashed the angel a small, disarming smile, and sat down on the small amount of cushion left next to Crowley. They placed their hand on the other demon’s shoulder and in the softest voice anyone had ever heard come from the prince of Hell said a name. 

“Raphael,” That was enough to get Crowley to straighten up. A dead name from times long since lost. “What happened in your dream.”

“He kills everyone.” Crowley whispered. “Everyone but me.” 

“Who?” Beelzebub asked as if there was any real doubt. 

“Gabriel.”

Crowley shut his eyes and he saw him again; the twisted and mangled version of his baby standing there on the ground below Gabriel with murder in his eyes. 

“And if he...if he spares him then he turns him into something...something else....”

“So we kill Gabriel then?” Hastur suggested. “Like, I’m not the odd man out here am I? We kill Gabriel, we save Mercury, the earth goes on spinning.” 

“You can’t kill an archangel.”

“Sure you can,” Said Ligur. “We just need fire. Lots and lots of fire.”

“I’ll make a call to Lucifer-“

“It won’t work!” Crowley exclaimed and slammed his fist into the nearby wall. He relaxed his hand and pulled away but the damage had been done. He’d made a pretty substantial sized hole in the drywall. His hand was already beginning to bruise but the serpent showed no reaction to it. It was like it had never happened, like he hadn’t felt a thing. “Whatever they’re planning, they won’t just settle for him. They’ll get all of us.”

“All of us...but you?” Anathema asked. We’re humans included in that math or were they once agains sidelined to the roles of bystanders? “What makes you so special.” 

“I am the one being in this galaxy, in this existence, that he thoroughly hates with every finer of his ethereal being.” Crowley explained. Everyone in the room knew that now. Only one person didn’t know why and the serpent didn’t feel like sitting down and explaining his fucked up family tree to her! “He wants me to suffer.” 

“Gabriel? As in the angel who told Mary she was pregnant? That Gabriel.” Anathema asked. Her knowledge of Christianity may have been limited but she had heard of the name before. She knew what he was supposed to represent and killing babies was definitely not one of them.In fact it was pretty much the opposite.

“Yeah.” Hastur was the one to answer her. “He’s a dick.” 

Beelzebub sighed and leaned back against he wall, “He didn’t use to be.”

“Yeah, well a lot things didn’t use to be this way. He used you to be in with Michael! Remember that? You and Michael, best buddies, real BFFs!” And with that the spark inside of Crowley had been reignited. He pointed an accusing finger at Ligur who could only watch as the serpent drug up old memories. He missed Michael. They may have still be in contact, serving as backchannels through heaven and hell respectively, but it wasn’t the same. They used to be able to go out, to do things, to talk about things unrelated to work...and now they had none of that. Ligur bit down on his tongue, fully prepared to accept whatever Crowley had to say about him, but just as quickly as Crowley started in on the chameleon he switched gears and turned the fury of his rage towards Hastur. “You used to have the most gorgeous hair. Remember how it would shimmer and change colours in the sun? All the pretty, pretty colours that God gave to you? Remember how it washed away and singed to the scalp when you fell? Is that why Ligur chose a chameleon? So you could have a glimpse at those beautiful colours that were once yours in the bleak and grey world you’re forced to endure now?”

The world had been so beautiful and bright before the fall. Hastur had been beautiful once. Absentmindedly Hastur reaches up and ran a hand through his wig. It was coarse and rough. When he had been an angel it had always been so soft to the touch. Whatever hadn’t been burned in the fall quickly fell victim to the stress from dealing with demons like Crowley and Legion everyday. 

Crowley continued and added his own thoughts on the matter, “At least I always thought so. Thought it was bloody sweet of him and everything. It’s the least he could do. What with your fall being /his/ fault.”

That was enough. Ligur formed a fist and stepped towards the other demon. Crowley was not backing down and remained firmly in place. The chameleon drew his fist back and would have socked the snake square in the jaw had it not been for Beelzebub stepping between them “Shut up. Shut up! You have no right!” They snapped at their subordinate. 

“Oh Beelzebub, don’t tell me you don’t long for the days? You must remember them, after all you were quite the little angel then. Used to help the infertile and run around holding Gabriel’s bloody hand!” 

Wasn’t it funny how people changed? Or maybe it was funnier how sometimes people thought they changed but never actually did. Ligur used to be Michael’s right hand and while they weren’t technically on the same side anymore they remained allies. Hastur used to guard secrets, used to bathe in colour, and while those had both been stripped from him he still kept his own secrets close to his chest and got to see all of his beloved colours in his husband’s eyes. Beelzebub used to help the infertile and spent thousands of years believing that their casting from heaven corrupted that instinct, but Mercury was living proof that it still resides deep within them. Crowley hadn’t changed much either but just as with the others, he’d lost it all. “And you.” Said Beelzebub. “You lost everything too. You brother, your sister, the stars you helped craft. Don’t go pinning this little pity on us. We all made our choices. For better or for worse.” 

Beelzebub didn’t budge once during Crowley’s rant. They stood firm, arms folded in front of their chest, watching in mild amusement as their subordinate tried to verbally rip them a new one. Crowley finished and took a step back. Any minute now Beelzebub would strike him for daring to be so bold but nothing happened. Beelzebub stood there staring cooly at the serpent and then retook their seat on the couch without saying a word. Ligur and Hastur exchanged glances and started heading towards the kitchen. Unlike their boss, however, they had some words for Crowely as they passed. 

“I’m choosing to ignore your little tirade because you are under great stress.” Ligur warned him. “Otherwise I think I would kill you.” He would allow it this time but never again. There was a reason everyone preferred not to think of their lives before the fall. 

“You ever blame Ligur for my being cast out from heaven again and I will not hesitate to kill you.” Hastur added. 

Crowely rolled his eyes and left. Not to the kitchen like Ligur and Hastur but down the hall to Merucry’s room. Aziraphale followed him and found the serpent sitting on the floor in front of their son’s crib, staring out into the middle of nowhere with tears beginning to form in the corners of his eyes. 

“Crowley.” 

“Angel.”

Aziraphale got down on the floor next to Crowley and before he could even hold out his arms the snake grabbed hold of him and buried his face in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale sighed and rubbed little circles into Crowley’s back. “This isn’t good. I know this isn’t good but you’re only making it worse by snapping at the most powerful allies that we have.” He told the other, “Just take a second to breathe.”

Crowley didn’t say anything but he did look up and rub his eyes on his arm. It killed Aziraphale to see him like this. Crowley hated to appear vulnerable in front of anyone so to be so weak even in front of him... “If we have to kill Gabriel, we’ll kill Gabriel.” Aziraphale promised. “I _will_ kill Gabriel.” 

Crowley snorted out a noise that could only be described as a chuckle but it was void of any humour, any happiness. “Angels don’t kill.” He reminded the other. 

“Angels don’t harm the innocent.” Aziraphale pointed out. “He tries anything with you or Mercury and I will do everything in my power to stop him.”

The guardian of the eastern gate pressed a kiss to his lover’s forehead, earning him a sigh from the defeated demon. “I told you it was a dream. And I intend to keep it that way. You just need to breathe.” 

Soft whining coming from the crib alerted them both to another, now fully awake, presence in the room. Crowley managed a chuckle and got to his feet to take Mercury out. The baby’s whining stopped the minute he saw his mother and nuzzled close to Crowley’s chest. Aziraphale got up too and caressed his son’s golden curls. He was so small, so vulnerable... “He can tell you’re upset.”

“Of course he can. He’s a smart little bugger.” Said Crowley. “Aren’t you? So smart like your daddy?”

Aziraphale was in love. He had never been much of a fighter but whatever it took, he would keep his family safe. “My dear boys.” 

~~~

“Do you mind if I ask you a...slightly personal question?”

Aziraphale stayed with Crowley in Mercury’s room until the serpent fell asleep. Everyone was still lingering in the flat when he emerged, tense and trying not to speak but still there. Aziraphale took it upon himself to apologize to Ligur and Beelzebub as he passed them on his way to the kitchen and found the demon he was looking for leaning back against the counter and waiting for something, for anything, to happen. Hastur had a pack of cigarettes in his hand which he quickly shoved back down into the pocket of his overcoat when he saw Aziraphale coming. “Go ahead.” 

“Why’d you fall?” Up until a year ago Aziraphale had never put much thought into the hows and whys certain angels fell while others remained loyal to their maker but after everything he’d went through, after trying and struggling so much to be heard...it was starting to make sense to him. “Crowley fell because he was curious. Ligur, I remember seeing him back when he was still Jehoel, fighting alongside Lucifer and Beelzebub but I can’t remember you.”

“That’s cause I didn’t fight.” Hastur said rather bluntly. “People just always assume that I did. Don’t blame them. I probably would have too if the timing was any better.”

“Timing?” Aziraphale repeated. What did that have to do with anything? It wasn’t as if they had any other commitments going on during the time of the rebellion and subsequent fall. “You didn’t answer my question Hastur.”

Hastur suddenly wished he had a cigarette or something he could shove into his mouth to avoid talking but he was told (repeatedly) that it was unhealthy around Mercury (which was stupid., in his opinion. What kind of ethereal being got cancer? Better safe than sorry he guessed). The frog sighed. It wasn’t like they were hiding it or anything. Just no one had bothered to ask him about it before. Well he wasn’t hiding. “Carnality.” Hastur answered and left it at that. Aziraphale had been around the block a few times. He would know what Hastur was talking about without having to paint him a picture. “We both knew we were doomed long before the rebellion began. Ligur fought because we had nothing else to loose.”

“But why not you?”

Maybe Hastur did have to paint him a picture as graphic as that may be. The lord of Hell stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat and shifted awkwardly. Aziraphale stared at him. Suddenly it all clicked in his head and Hastur could visually witness the five stages of grief flash across his milky white face. Poor angel. He had been abused and tossed aside like garbage by his fellow angels, ignored by his creator, and yet still believed that there was some hope, some shred of goodness in them. 

Or maybe he simply didn’t want to believe that God would toss a pregnant person out of Heaven.

“No. No I refuse to believe it. The almighty wouldn’t-“

“The almighty threw your boyfriend over the edge for asking too many questions and being _too_ kind to the humans. Are you really in the mindset that she wouldn’t throw a pregnant sinner off as well?!”

“Holy fuck...” Aziraphale grabbed onto the back of a nearby kitchen chair to keep himself from stumbling to the ground. “The baby...?”

“The first offered onto our master to add to the legions of Hell.” Hastur explained. “I survived the fall but hitting the ground going over 1000 miles an hour is not the best way to induce labour nor do I recommend it.” 

His son had been the first demon born after the fall; the first one to be born entirely demon, with no traces of angel blood in his veins or any memories of heaven in his head. In the pits of hell, his son entered the world and, bitter and in the worst pain he had ever experienced, Hastur gave him the name Emanuel. Lucifer asked when taking the baby to his new life as a soldier of Hell why that name. Why Emanuel of all things? And Hastur just smiled and answered, “It means _God is with us.”_ Lucifer has thought it was damn funny and snickered over the remark for a week afterwards. “I haven’t seen him since.”

“Ligur?” Aziraphale asked and Hastur nodded. Of course it had been Ligur’s. There had never been anyone else, in heaven or hell. “Good Lord...”

“Makes you wonder.” Hastur said. “Why haven’t you fallen yet? Is it something felt against those who dare to share in her creation? Who carry the young to term? But then Ligur fell too. So what makes you so special?” He wasn’t bitter. Or maybe he was. The line tended to blur between emotions with him these days. 

Aziraphale didn’t know. He had been thinking it over himself. It just didn’t make sense to him. For centuries he had been living life on earth as a hedonistic terror to the angelic traditions, consorting with a demon, averting the apocalypse, siring a being that in accordance with heaven’s beliefs should not exist yet he was still an angel. Crowley asked a few questions and he fell. Had the lord simply grown merciful in the centuries that followed Lucifer’s rebellion or was something greater at play that he could not understand. He did not understand and something told him that he would never understand. But that didn’t make it any less fair. “When this is over I would like to help you find your son.”

“You think he’d want to see us?”

“I would.” Said Aziraphale. He meant it too. If the world had been kind enough to supply him with parents he would have done anything in his power to meet them, if only for one moment. “If it had been me, I mean. Think about it, if you had been born after the fall and separated from your parents, wouldn’t you want to know?”

“You promise?”

“Cross my heart.” Aziraphale swore. Whether he was in heaven’s good books or not, he was still an angel. He wanted to do good. “I just...need you to be honest with me. How difficult do you think it would be to...to kill an archangel?”

“Very.” Hastur would be lying if he said that Hell hadn’t put considerable time and research into answering that very question. Centuries even. As...unstable as demons were they were not complete and total idiots. They recognized that the last time they fought against the forces of heaven that they had suffered significant losses and going into another battle, that they would need to do something to level the playing fields. And they had found it and had planned to deploy it before their centuries old plan of war was stopped by the very angel and demon that Hell was now struggling to protect. “Very difficult but not impossible. We’re just going to need some unholy help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a couple things:
> 
> 1) Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael are written as siblings because in Catholicism they are the big three, canon archangels and I thought it would be cool to explore that angle because usually fics involving siblings in Good Omens have Gabriel as Aziraphale’s brother when there’s a gold mine for black sheep of the family Crowley fics. Also Uriel is sometimes considered an archangel, along with a couple other angels not mentioned in the book or show, so I stuck to the big three. I’d say Uriel is like their cousin and she is going to be popping up very soon :)
> 
> 2) Before his name was Emanuel, I was going to call Hastur and Ligur’s son Jeremiah because Jeremiah was a bullfrog so let’s all be happy that that joke didn’t make it into this fucking story. That’s some groan worthy joke right there. 
> 
> 3) I’m tempted to make a little note explaining who was who before the fall but I don’t know. Are you guys interested in seeing that? Should I leave it until the epilogue? What are you feeling?
> 
> Enjoy.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

"Hello?"

Newt looked up from the orders he had been going over and tried his best to keep from staring at the young man who had approached the cash. He was not the type of person who usually stumbled into A.Z. FELL AND CO.'s; rich collecters of fine books looking for a bargain, tourists taking in Soho, students looking for a place to unwind before class, hipsters stumbling onto another hidden gem of the city. This man looked like he had walked straight out of the 1993 punk scene. The first thing Newt noticed about him was how tall he was. The young man was easily 6'3 if not taller and towered over him though some of this may have been attributable to the platform black boots he was wearing. He was dark skinned and though Newt was not deliberately trying to piece together his heritage, he would guess that the man was biracial, maybe with some black or hispanic background. The second thing that Newt noticed about him, and the thing that should have been the first, was the man's hair. It was styled into a bright, almost neon red mohawk. Not the sort of thing one saw everyday in a little bookshop in one of the more 'upscale' parts of the city though it did go along well with the man's ensemble which included a slightly faded Motley Crue t-shirt under a leather half-jacket with spikes bursting out of the shoulders, tight, black skinny jeans that were shredded at the knees, and several piecerings that covered his face (three in his left ear, two in his right ear, one in his nose, and when he opened his mouth to speak Newt could see one in his tongue. He did not want to think of where else the man may have had jewelry). The man cocked an eyebrow, he was waiting for some sort of response and Newt had not been as subtle as he may have hoped in his examination. The former witchhunter coughed and managed to sputter out, "Can I help you?"

"Lookin' for Crowley and Aziraphale. They here?" The man asked. Of course he would be one of their friends. They always attracted the strangest people to them. Then again, Newt was also their friend, not to mention in their employee so he didn't have the room to talk. 

He was about to tell the man that they were upstairs when he remembered what Aziraphale had told him about the angels and what to do if any strangers suddenly appeared in the shop. The young man didn't look like an angel, but then again angels were smart. This all could be part of some elaborate ruse to gain access to the flat. Despite his apprehensions Newt managed to choke back any unease he had about the man and folded his arms in front of his chest, "Who's asking?"

"Name's Manny." The young man replied, "My associates and I are here to help them with their little problem."

"Associates?"

As if on que the door to the shop opened and a second young man entered. This time, however, Newt knew exactly who he was. He was exactly as Anathema had described to him; average height, big bright eyes, the strangest possible haircut you could imagine, and dressed from head to toe in black. Newt let ought a sigh of relief, "Eric."

"Hello?" The expendable demon said and waved, "Do I know you?"

"I'm Newt. Anathema's boyfriend. She told me all about you." More specifically his relationship problems. Newt wondered if Eric had ever gotten them resolved. 

"Oh! Tell her I said Hi!" Eric looked between Mannny and Newt and picking up on some hostility asked, "Is there something wrong here?"

"Nothin' I can't handle." said Manny, "Where'd Dagon go? I thought she was with you Babe."

It suddenly became crystal clear to Newt as to why Asmodeus wasn’t happy about his son’s choice of men.

"Dagon was with me but got into an argument with a man as we were walking in. Apparently he felt entitled to her parking spot.” Eric explained, “As much as I would have loved to see her mentally torture him into madness, she insisted that I go ahead and see how you were doing."

Manny grinned and Newt noticed that his teeth were sharp and jagged like that of a shark's. They matched his eyes which were huge, black, and souless. "I'm just peachy." 

"Oh good." "Can we speak with Crowley and Aziraphale? Are they home right now?"

"Uh...yeah. Upstairs."

"Thank you."

The former witchfinder forced his eyes back onto the pages before him but he could see the two demons walking towards the stairs out of his peripheral vision. Eric went first and ascended the staircase with no problems but Manny stopped when he reached the bottom. Newt dared to look up and was met with the most horrifying, bone-chilling, feral grin he could have imagined. He felt like a shrimp, so tiny and pink and delicious, gazing into the haunting dead eyes of a great white. “See you later Newton." Manny told him in a sing-songy sort of way that did nothing to quell the human’s fears and began the climb up to the flat. 

~~~

The flat had grown increasingly smaller with the additional presence of three demons and a witch. Beelzebub, Ligur, and Hastur opted to remain with Crowley, Aziraphale, and Mercury rather than make continuous trips to and from Hell. Though inconvenient it was not impossible; Hastur and Ligur slept in the living room (and by slept, I mean they sat around on the couch waiting for morning because sleep had never been high on either of their list of priorities) and Beelzebub would shrink themself down into the form of a common fly and find some nice spot to perch until needed (there had been one awkward encounter early into this arrangement where a very sleepy Crowley rolled out of bed at 2am to feed Mercury, saw the fly on the ceiling overlooking the snoozing tot, and attempted to swat at with a rolled up newspaper. Needless to say Crowley woke up entirely when said fly grew arms, took the newspaper, and proceeded to beat him over the head with it). However inconvenient it was to always be stepping over someone, it was worth it just to feel additional security around the flat. It was a visual, physical reminder that it one angel against the entire forces of Hell, and of every demon in Hell couldn’t make it to Soho in time, that it was still a guaranteed five against one. But the demons still didn’t like those odds so when there was a knock on the door to the flat around lunch not even a week after the letter from Heaven showed up, it was expected. 

Beelzebub was the one to answer the door and quickly ushered the two younger demons inside by the arms. They shut and locked the door behind them for good measure, "I'm so glad you could make it on such short notice," But wait. Something was wrong. There were supposed to be three. “Where's Dagon?"

"Torturing the humans. She’ll be here soon. So what's up?" Eric asked. Such behaviour was to be expected when dealing with Dagon. No one in the Underworld was surprised at this point. 

"We'll get to that. First I believe a formal introduction is in order," Beelzebub said and clapped their hands together. While there was, technically, only one person in the flat without any knowledge to whom the new arrivals were, the bureaucrat inside the Prince of Hell would not rest easy without a proper exchange between the forces. If they were going to be saving the angel’s son, after all, it only made perfect sense for him to know the names of his assistants. “The woman who will be joining us shortly is Dagon, my right hand and operating leader of the legions of Hell. I’m sure she’ll want to give you a full list of her credentials when she arrives.”

Legion offered an awkward wave as his superior started his intro, “You all know Legion-“

“Eric!” The disposable demon interrupted them. 

“Eric.” Beelzebub corrected. Thousands of years and they were still struggling not to use his dead name. It was shameful. “And this is Manny. General of Hell's 333rd division, tenure instructor of both basic and advanced trainning, and the man who would have lead his soldiers into the American west during the apocolypse.” 

A great honour considering the strength of the American military and amount of firepower within the west coast of North America. Crowley himself did not have control over any of Hell’s forces in regards to their apocalyptic battle strategy, nor did he even have a domain to locate himself in both during the war and, if they succeeded, afterwards. But the ruins of the world would be divided. Satan and Adam would take the centre and erect their own kingdom amongst the waves, Beelzebub would have Australia by their decision (the crazy insect life there made it an ideal home for the overgrown fly), and the rest would be divided amongst friends and generals. In a world where Crowley and Aziraphale failed, Manny would stand on golden sand with a crown to match. Other demons may have been bitter about such a future being torn away from them but not Manny. He was no king, he was a soldier, and he liked it that way. It was what he was good at. Still his claim to the west was impressive enough for Beelzebub to comment upon it in his introduction. The Prince of Hell flashed the younger demon a proud smile and draped an arm around his shoulders, “If anyone has a chance at taking down an archangel, it's this man right here."

Manny chuckled and returned the favour, one of his arms sneaking around the Prince’s shoulders too. “Beelzebub, you flatter me! I am sure that hundreds of demons would be as easily qualified for such a mission."

Aziraphale gave his demonic lover a look and it took all of the serpent’s willpower to keep from laughing. The principality leaned in and whispered into Crowley’s ear, “Isn't he humble?" What was with the younger demons and being far too bold? Or demons being bold in general. 

Manny let go of Beelzebub and did a lap of the flat, looking over the windows, checking doors, getting a general sense of the layout. The other demons watched him work but said nothing, confirming the growing suspicion Aziraphale had that Eric was solely there because he was romantically involved with the other boy and that his more senior officers had little to no idea of wha to inspect with Manny. The punk came to stop in the hallway and asked, “Now, am I to understand that the purpose of this mission is to destroy the angel Gabriel or was my information incorrect?"

"Partially." Aziraphale admitted but before he could divulge any further he was interrupted by Eric whose brow furrowed together as that single world played on repeat throughout his brain.

"Partially?" The young demon repeated. “What do you mean partially? Do you not know who threatens you?”

"Heaven has made threats against the infant Mercury and we have reason to believe that Gabriel will be the one to carry any actual action out. Our intention is to eliminate any angel that tries to harm the child, whether they be Gabriel or Michael or otherwise." Hastur explained. Whether they sent Gabriel or not, the call to arms of the younger demons could be considered overkill or appropriate. Another principality like Aziraphale they could all handle but an archangel...that was something else entirely. 

"It'll be Gabriel." Crowley said, speaking for the first time since Eric and Manny’s arrival. “For him it's personal."

"He's a dick. I get that." Said Manny. “Are there any barriers in place to keep holy figures from entering?"

Whose flat did the kid think he was standing in? Aziraphale tried (and failed) to keep himself from sounding sarcastic in his response, “No." 

"Aziraphale would be locked out if we were to put them up..." Crowley pointed out. 

"And we are unsure of how Mercury would react to them. It's one of the reasons why we simply cannot relocate the baby to Hell until he is grown enough to defend himself." Beelzebub added.

"Well then we are limited in our options." Manny stated. "We'll have to kill him."

"Yes. We know that but how exactly are we supposed to carry that out." Said Ligur. 

"Easy. We force his hand," Manny explained. “How many ways into this place?" He had been counting but to be certain it was best he asked. 

"The front doors, the fire escape, the back door-"

"Place seals on all of them except for one and Gabriel will have no choice but to enter through that way. From there we can _Home Alone_ the bitch."

"What?" Hastur asked which summed up Aziraphale and Crowley’s stance on the matter perfectly. “You want us to like...pour legos out under an open window?"

“This guy is the head of training?” Aziraphale asked his demonic lover who could only shrug. It had been a long time since he’d gone through training and along time since he had spent a considerable portion down in Hell. For all he knew the younger demons could have easily found their way into positions of high standing and this was on par for a normal day.

"No, we all be waiting with weapons and unholy fire to destroy his ass when he enters." This time it was Eric who spoke. “But I mean we could do the lego thing. Pour some salt in the wounds."

"If we were to have him come through the fire escape then there's only one door out of that room. Plenty of space to set up a series of elaborate booby traps to rip his ego to shreads before we kill him." A feral grin spread across the punk demon’s face and Aziraphale felt an involuntary chill roll down his spine. He really hoped that Mercury never looked like that. Too much teeth to ever be comfortable around. “Let's do the paint can on a rope thing!"

"Or we make the doorknob super hot so he burns his hand when he goes to open it!"

"Or we could just kill him and not risk him laying a finger on Mercury." Crowley suggested. His suggestion was both his, Aziraphale, and Beelzebub’s favourite. 

Both Eric and Manny groaned and it felt like a smack in the face reminder of just how _young_ the two boys were. They really were putting Mercury’s safety in the hands of two slightly older children... Eric folded his arms in front of his chest and leaned back against the wall, nibbling on his lower lip, “Way to suck the fun out of it."

~~~~

"Are you sure this is wise sir?" Sandalphon had experienced a lot of strange things in his existence as both an angel and close compatriot with Gabriel. It seemed like anyone who got close to the archangel experienced a series of strange, vaguely life threatening occurrences. However Sandalphon liked to imagine there was a line that even Gabriel dared not cross. A line like not killing babies. Yet there they were; Gabriel and Sandalphon standing side by side in the main hall, the lesser of the two angels staring at the globe, while the other pulled on a coat and tied his show’s. “Not that I am doubting you but surely the demon Crowley, as wiley as he is, has found a way to gain the support of the other demons in combatting you-"

"It does not matter how many demons he summons. I am prepared." Gabriel responded and opened up his coat to reveal a blessed dagger sewn into a secret pocket in his coat. A sword would have been more Gabriel’s style (more dramatic) but would not fit. Not to mention it would certainly attract a lot more attention to see a tall, handsome man with a glowing sword entering a bookshop in London. Then agains subtly was never Gabriel’s strong suit. “Do me a favor and have a bath drawn for me when I return? Demon's blood is so black and icky, and I would like to remove it as quickly as possible."

"Holy water or regular?"

"Just the regular should suffice but if you were to throw a bucket of holy water on my snoozing sister so that she may finally take action and rise from bed, that would also be greatly appreciated."

"I'll see to it." From delivering justice upon sinners at the fields of Sodom and Gamora to errand boy, only fit to fetch the water, make the beds, scrub the floors. Oh how the mighty have fallen...it reminded the angel far too greatly of that silly little fairy tale. But if Sandalphon were Cinderella then who was Gabriel? The ugly stepsister? As much as it would please the lesser of the two angels to imagine so, a blind man of a million could tell that Gabriel was handsome solely from his voice. Fucking Gabriel. 

"Thank you, Sandalphon. You're a sweetheart." And with that the archangel was gone. Disappearing in a bolt of lightning and blasting down to earth (never to be seen again, in Sandalphon’s mind). 

Not even a minute later Uriel rounded the corner and lightly rapped her hand against the door to catch her fellow angel’s attention, “Hello Sandalphon. Have you seen Gabriel today? I wanted to ask him about the thread count on some of the blankets I was given. It seems as though they are lesser than the ones given to Cassiel and I believe that they may have been intended for the cherubim.” 

Sandalphon successfully suppressed his desire to roll his eyes. All anyone ever did around heaven anymore was sleep. Well, sleep and plot stupid schemes that involved killing babies. As much as he disliked Aziraphale, something about killing his infant just made the angel feel uneasy. “Gabriel is out right now, attending to business on Earth." He said and hoped that would be the end of it. 

Of course it wasn’t. Uriel tilted her head to the side. She knew that they no longer had business on earth; not at the moment at least. At the moment everything was up in the air and Gabriel had no business interfering. Unless he had the sudden desire to experience the unique flavour of fine cuisine and get off of his high horse. “Oh? And where is he going?"

"He's going to die." Said Sandalphon. 

“Oh.” Said Uriel, “But then...who will help me with my blankets?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beelzebub: This is Manny. Our best chance at killing an archangel aka a really good soldier.   
> Manny: Let’s home alone the bitch!  
> Beelzebub:...


	18. Chapter Seventeen

Ligur couldn’t sleep. For the past hour he had been watching the hands on the wall clock slowly tick by and counting every second of peace that he could not enjoy. Something didn’t sit right with him. Something wouldn’t allow him to drift off. Hastur was asleep though. Hastur could sleep through anything if he had the right mind to (in fact he had before. For the first part of the 20th century the lord of Hell had slept comfortably while other demons saw to the wars. Boy had he been disappointed to wake and realize that he had missed the carnage!) but Ligur has always been a light sleeper. Normally he would be content enough to watch his mate completely at peace with the world but not tonight. After another half hour of laying around and waiting for something to happen the chameleon decided to stand up and go pace in one of the other rooms where he wouldn’t disturb anyone. The kitchen seemed like the safest bet. Once he grew tired of pacing (and he would) he could get something to eat to further pass the time.

Demons were used to the darkness so Ligur didn’t bother to turn on any lights as he made his way through the darkened flat. The closer he could to the kitchen, the more he became aware of something moving around in there. He turned the corner and caught sight of an outline moving from one of the cupboards to the fridge. The outline didn’t see him so Ligur coughed to get their attention. The figure jumped and the chameleon was able to catch his eyes. They were black and soulless. Only two people in the flat had eyes like that and seeing as Ligur had just left one of them sleeping he felt safe to assume that it was the other one. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were here.” He said. “Is everything alright?”

“Just getting a drink.” Manny explained and held up the mug he’d stolen from Aziraphale’s cupboards. The handles were little angel wings, how typical but maybe Manny had the right idea. Warm milk helped humans go to sleep so it might work with a demon. Ligur made his way over to the cupboard and snatched the mug’s twin. Manny had let the carton out on the counter so Ligur set to work filling his mug. When he turned back something caught his eye. Manny had changed. “Woah. How did you do that?”

“Do what?” The other demon asked oblivious to anything new and took a sip of his milk.

“Your hair. It’s blue now.” Said Ligur. Not a mauve, or a maroon, something that could be confused for red in the darkness of the kitchen this late but a bright, electric neon blue. Ligur was a lot of things but he sure as heaven was not colour-blind! “And it was definitely red this morning.”

“Oh that.” Manny set his half empty mug down on the kitchen table and brushed loose strands of his hair back. “It does that. Never really found out why. Can’t control it either. I just deal with whatever color it switches too.” He did have to admit, he saved a lot of money on hair dye this way.

Ligur managed a chuckle at that. Hastur was going to get a kick out of this. Hell was such a blend, grey place. Any splotches of random color were always greatly appreciated. It reminded them all of another time. “Heh, you know I know someone who used to be able to do-“

_Black soulless eyes. Hair that hanged color. High status in Hell. Thousands of years old_.

Uh oh.

Ligur must have been starring because Manny was just starring back at him with a blank expression. “Everything alright?” The younger demon asked. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

Did he look like him? He had eyes like Hastur and hair like Hastur’s used to be... _would have been_ while carrying him. But did he have anything like Ligur’s? The chameleon couldn’t tell. Hastur may have been able to or Beelzebub or Crowley but they would be too distracted to pay attention. Or, the more fitting explanation, they were all kind of dumb. Aziraphale? One of those humans who kept stopping by? Ligur could ask them for their opinions the next time he saw them. “Everything’s fine.” He lied.

“You don’t look it.” Manny replied suddenly fully alert. “Do you sense angels?”

“No, no. It’s something...something else.” Ligur would have been able to handle angels. This was something else entirely and he was unsure of himself.

“Right.” Ligur could tell from the tone in Manny’s voice that he wasn’t buying it but Manny did not press the matter further. He downed the rest of his milk and, leaving his mug on the table, ventured off back into the rest of the flat.

~~~

“Hello Crowley.”

The serpent's eyes snapped open to see a familiar face starring down at him from above his bed. Crowley bolted upright, fists together, ready to take a swing, when a large and firm hand clamped down over his mouth and he was knocked back into bed, “GABRIEL-MMMFF!”

The archangel loomed over him, one hand keeping Crowley from screaming for help, the other wrapped around the demon's throat pinning him back into the mattress. Crowley wriggled and squirmed but it was no use. Gabriel had always been much stronger than him, physically speaking. “I’m not sure what you were attempting with the open window, the hell fire, and the legos but I am impressed. Only you could come up with a plan so stupid.” Gabriel's words were taunting; he found it funny that they had gone through so much to try and keep him out when it only took a moment for him to get in. It was yet another stroke to his over sized angelic ego. “If I take my hand back and you scream I’ll level this entire fucking place. You know I can.”

Crowley fought the urge to bite down as hard as he could on Gabriel's hand and hope that his venom was transferable when he was in human form and nodded to show that he understood his demands. Gabriel pulled the hand covering his mouth back but tightened the one around Crowley's throat. If he were human, Crowley would have been gasping for air by now. “Good boy. I just want to talk is all.” said Gabriel with a misleading happy-go-lucky type smile. “How have you been? Well, I know how you’ve been. Whoring it up on Earth, corrupting my angels, playing with the other demons...you always did know how to get other people to do exactly what you want.”

He should have been quiet. Should have kept the words that damned him to himself. But Crowley had always talked too much; he ran his mouth and that was were all his troubles began and ended. “That’s not true.”

“It’s the truth. You know it is. You’re a liar. Always have been.” Gabriel fired back and squeezed harder around Crowley's throat. It was beginning to burn and Crowley found himself inhaling short, quick breathes of air to keep himself from suffocating (He wouldn't but the feeling that he was going to persisted. It reminded him of the human torture practice of waterboarding). “If I had been a smart man I would have killed you when you were new and weak. I may have fallen in the process but it would have saved the world a lot of trouble.”

Crowley chose to ignore that remark. “How is Michael?”

“Tired. Sleeping. All of us are. Heaven has decided that these _gained_ years will be very hands off. You know how it is. I would have been sleeping too if not for your little...” Violet eyes landed upon the bassinet across the room where Mercury lay sleeping completely unaware of any incoming danger. It had been Crowley's idea to move him in with him and Aziraphale, just until the matter with the angels was resolved, and it had seemed like such a smart thing to do at the time. Now it just locked the baby in a room with a being who had no qualms about killing his entire family. “Blessing.”

“He is a baby, Gabriel-“ Crowley spoke with urgency. He was good at tempting, good at persuading people to do what he wanted, Gabriel had just admitted that, well here he was arguing for his son's life. That infamous serpent's tongue needed to work magic. They all depended upon it.

“He is a mistake, a walking testament to sin-“

“He can’t walk yet! He’s just figuring out how to crawl-“

“His existence is wrong in every sense of the word. He was not meant to be born in a world where Adam Young saved the world or in one where he destroyed it. He is an abomination, a plague upon the ethereal, a monster. And you’re too blinded by maternal love to see it.”

Something ignited inside Crowley's chest and he took a swing. His fist collided with Gabriel's fat head and sent the archangel tumbling backwards off the bed and onto the floor. Crowley moved quickly, jumping after him, and pinned Gabriel to the floor by digging his knee into his chest. “You talk about my son like that again and we’ll see what happens.”

“He’s evil Crowley,” Gabriel spewed. “Think about it. If he were good like your precious Aziraphale, why would Hell _adore_ him?”

“You want the world to end. Why does it matter where Mercury stands?”

“Because he /is/ wrong! His entire being is wrong!” Gabriel bucked upwards and was able to knock Crowley off of him and onto the floor. Before Crowley had the opportunity to get back up or roll away, Gabriel was on top of him with his hands wrapped around Crowley's throat. This time he wasn't playing around. There was no teasing, no slowly increasing pressure, just two firm hands locked around Crowley's neck and squeezing as hard as he could. Despite being inhuman and therefore unable to suffocate, Crowley's face turned red and his eyes began to water. He coughed and squirmed and gasped for air that just couldn't make its way into his lungs. If Gabriel couldn't kill Crowley like this, he could at least disincorporate him and take one more obstacle out of his way. “Look, I’ll make it quick. Consider it a favor from me to you. A quick and merciful end to his torturous existence-“

Something hard crashed down hard over the back of Gabriel's head and the archangel went limp. He let go of Crowley who scrambled to get away, panting and struggling for air, and collapsed against the floor. Aziraphale stood behind him, clad in a pair of tartan pajamas and gripping the base of what used to be their bedside lamp. Shards of glass from the bulb were currently embedded in the back of Gabriel's head, staining his already dark hair, and around Aziraphale's feet. Crowley and he exchanged glances but did not say a word (partially because Crowley's throat could still feel Gabriel's phantom hands pressing down against his windpipe). Their victory was short lived, however, because as quickly as he was down Gabriel was back up and glaring daggers into Crowley's very soul.

“You fucking whore!” He snarled and clawed at the demon who scrambled back out of his reach. “You scum! You piece of-“

“Better choose your next words carefully.” Aziraphale interrupted him. He had already broken one lamp to shut his former supervisor up and he was more than willing to sacrifice another. Gabriel looked back over his shoulder at the other angel standing there, ready to do battle with nothing more than a broken lamp and yet holding the high ground.

“Aziraphale.” Gabriel began. “Aziraphale, my friend, my cohort, my old chum-“

“We are nothing of the sort.” The principality reminded him. “I’m only going to tell you this once. Get the fuck out of our home and never come back.”

“Oh Aziraphale. Poor, sweet, simple Aziraphale.” Gabriel pushed himself up off the ground and onto his unsteady feet. He wobbled, a few beads of blood dribbling down from the cuts in the back of his head, and growing dizzy from the wound. Aziraphale let him stand up but this would be the only act of morderate kindness the archangel received from him. “You know your duties as an angel. You know the evil that exists within the child. You know what the right thing to do is.”

“The right thing to do is to protect my son and the love of my life.” replied Aziraphale. “And if we are being honest, Gabriel, I have no problems killing you. I would kill you for an ice cream cone and not loose one wink of sleep over it. Do you really want to test me?”

A wicked smirk spread across Gabriel's face, “Yes.” he said, his violet eyes dazzling against the darkness, and Aziraphale fell to the floor.

~~~

There was no possible reason for Beelzebub to be awake at this point in time. It had taken hours for the Prince of Hell to finally drift off and after a day spent watching Mercury, rules of exhaustion dictated that they should have been in a deep sleep for the next four hours at the very least. So why were they awake? Beelzebub sat up and looked around the living room to see if anyone else was up as well. Hastur and Eric seemed to be out cold but Beelzebub could see Ligur looking around the room too. They made eye contact and before the Prince of Hell had a chance to say anything, he beat them to the punch, “Something wrong?”

Beelzebub shrugged. Behind them they could hear footsteps entering the living room and seeing as there was one demon missing from their current party it didn't take a genius to guess who else was up at this hour. Manny stopped at the foot of the couch and looked around the room, “Do you feel that?”

“Feel what?” Ligur asked.

“A change in the air.” said Manny, putting into words the very sense of unease that was keeping Beelzebub awake. “I can feel something...”

“Wake Hastur and Eric. I’ll go check in with Crowley and Aziraphale.” Beelzebub instructed the other two and slowly rose to their feet. Beelzebub did not bother with the lights and made their way down the darkened hallway towards their hosts' bedroom. Just as they had reached the door and was about to turn the knob, they heard a loud thud coming from the other side. “That’s not good...”

Beelzebub could feel the others creeping down the hall behind them before they ever made their presences known. “Hastur?” They asked and heard the demon grunt in response. The frog didn't like being woken up at such an early hour but he was up and ready to serve so that was all that mattered. “Summon as much Hell fire as you can and guard the exits. I’m going in alone.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Manny asked. It would be one thing for Hell to suffer the loss of Crowley or Mercury, but to risk the crown prince...Satan would not be happy and the rest of Hell would have to suffer for it for the remainder of eternity.

“I know what I’m doing.” Was Beelzebub's only response before turning the knob and, silently, gliding through the small opening into the room. As they had suspected, Gabriel was there.

He stood a tall figure in all white and grey clothes shadowed by the dark and standing over Mercury's bassinet. Aziraphale laid completely limp on the floor but with eyes wide open and locked onto his fellow angel. Crowley was in a similar position several feet away. “-Are you two comfortable? I imagine you can’t be. Oh well. You have front row seats to your son’s execution.” Gabriel teased and reached into the bassinet to pull the baby out.

Beelzebub held their fists out in front of them and summoned a blast of hellfire. It formed around their hands and the Prince took a fighting stance, “I’d rethink that if I were you.”

Gabriel went completely still. “Akriel...” he whispered and Beelzebub felt a chill roll down their spine. That name coming from those lips was not something they ever wanted to hear again. It brought back waves of old memories, of better times, of a love long since dead. The last time those lips had ever mumbled that name had been when Gabriel was reading off a list of offenders ready to be tossed over the edge of oblivion. When he had sentenced his lover to fall. The archangel recovered quickly and stepped away from the bassinet. In his arms, half-asleep but still very much alive, was Mercury. “Never could stand to see a child in distress could you? Even as a demon.”

“What can I say. Some demons have bigger hearts than some angels.” Beelzebub shot back. The door to the room flew open and before Beelzebub could even blink Gabriel was surrounded. They had gone aginst their direct orders but for once Beelzebub couldn't bring themself to be angry. “Apparently.”

“Well, well, well look at this.” Gabriel teased, “All of Hell has turned out to play a hand in protecting their demonic spawn. How sweet. I am truly touched.”

“You have to realize what you’re doing.” said Eric, “You have to know you’re slaughtering an innocent!”

“Innocent?” Gabriel repeated, his words thundering and sending Eric stepping back until he was pressed against a wall and as far from the archangel as he possibly could get. “You truly are a bunch of idiots. Since when has a demon been considered innocent?”

“He’s not a demon though!” Hastur pointed out. If they couldn't fight, they could at least try to reason with him. “There is angel blood, angel magic within him!”

Gabriel rolled his eyes, “Bullshit.”

Ligur, following suit with Beelzebub, summoned torrents of hellfire around his hands and prepared himself to deck Gabriel square in the jaw. “You really are a bastard, you know that?”

“Oh please. You wouldn’t even be in this situation if you knew how to pull out.” Gabriel replied. His eyes fell upon Manny, standing between Eric and Ligur and gripping a blade. He was smart. He was the only demon who thought to bring a dagger to what was certain to be a knife fight. “And for that matter you wouldn’t be here either.”

Though his words seemed to be lost upon their intended target, the implication was not lost upon the others. Ligur turned pale and looked away, Beelzebub tried not say anything, and Eric couldn't help but scrunch up his nose in disgust, “Gross.”

“You can shut right up too.” Gabriel snapped at the expendable demon. “You know what they say about the apple not falling far from the tree. Your father was a dirty tramp and you’re of the same stock.”

That was enough to draw a response out of Manny. The demon snarled and lounged at the archangel, “I’m going to be rip your tongue out!”

Gabriel casually stepped to the side and out of Manny's way. He then reached into the pocket of his coat and produced a carving knife that he had taken the liberty of blessing for just such an occasion. Gently, he pressed the blade down against Mercury's throat. “I’ll kill him.”

The demons fell silent. If Crowley or Aziraphale had been able to break free of Gabriel's holy bonds and speak, Beelzebub was certain that they would be screaming, begging, praying for the safe release of their baby. The Prince of Hell wondered if Gabriel knew this. Of course he would. He was probably enjoying the rush of knowing that they were helpless to save their only child. Well Beelzebub wasn't going to let that happen. The Prince of Hell was done waiting, done reasoning, they darted forward, hell fire at the ready, fully prepared to drag Gabriel kicking and screaming down to their domain if need be. Gabriel saw them coming and snorted an ugly little laugh. He waved his hand and suddenly Beelzebub's legs felt like they were made of jelly. They collapsed to the ground, along with the rest of their demonic party. The archangel chuckled, "Child's play."

He was alone now. The only person to move freely around the room. Gabriel did a quick victory lap, basking in his victory and watching the hope drain from the eyes of every demon and traitor he passed. He stopped in front of Beelzebub. The Prince of Hell, he allowed, to speak. “Gabriel!” Beelzebub cried out. They had tried reasoning, they had tried fighting, the only thing left to do now was to beg. Beelzebub was not above it if it meant that their nephew (by declaration only) was safe, “Gabriel Stop!”

Gabriel knelt down in front of his former lover and smirked, “Sorry, my dear, but even your hellish magic can’t escape these bonds.” And with that he silenced Beelzebub again and rose to his feet. By now the baby had begun to realize that something was wrong, that the person holding him was not someone that he knew, and he began to cry. Gabriel could not care less.

“And so the evil will be extinguished from this world and banished to the next...!” Something told Gabriel to look down. Well told was the polite way of putting it. It felt like something had crawled inside of his skull and jerked his gaze down towards the baby wriggling and whining in his arms. Despite the tears and the wailing Mercury had his eyes open and was staring up at Gabriel with a look of utter terror. That was enough to give the archangel a chill; he wasn’t _supposed_ to be scary. Demons were scary. Angels were good. Everybody knew that. He shook it off and reaffirmed his grip around the knife. His hands had started to sweat and if he didn’t get it over with soon he was going to need to dry them off. He glanced down again and caught hold of the orange irises brimming with tears. There was something inside them. Little flecks of gold that shimmered when the light caught them. Gabriel tried to get a better look but juggling a small child and a knife while maintaining a freeze in time didn’t make it easy for him. Eventually, however, he succeeded.

There were galaxies in Mercury’s eyes. The little gold flecks mimicked the stars that his mother had helped create. Gabriel could see his favorite constellations, hidden there beneath an orange surface. He saw Alpha Centuri, and Orion, and Andromeda peaking out behind the tears in the corners. They were beautiful. Gabriel’s own eyes lingered over Andromeda and suddenly he felt something warm spread throughout his chest. He closed his eyes and when he reopened them he was home. Not London, not head office, _home_.

Gabriel stood in old robes and barefoot in the middle of a soft, white ground. The sky that surrounded him was a majestic violet and littered with the familiar swirls of galaxies and stars and planets.

“Gabriel?”

He looked back and his heart nearly jumped out of his chest. Michael stood behind him, flanked by their brothers on both sides. Lucifer’s wings were white and expanded behind him farther out than any eagle’s. He was smiling, not wickedly, but in earnest. It had been so long since Gabriel had seen his brother smile. He had forgotten how charming it once was, back before Lucifer’s teeth back snarled and jagged. Raphael stood on the other side of Michael, baby-faced and new. His hair, a riot of long, blood red curls stopped about mid back and stood out against the pure white of his robes. His eyes, the very gold that had pulled Gabriel in, were wide and bright with a sense of hope and wonder that had long since been extinguished. It had been Raphael who called for him and, not getting a response from his brother, tried again, “Gabriel? Is everything alright?”

The archangel’s throat suddenly grew tight and his breathing heavier. A shaking hand rose to Gabriel’s throat in a pitiful attempt to regulate himself. It, predictably, wasn’t working. The other archangels sprinted to his side and though Gabriel could feel their hands on him, keeping him from collapsing to the ground, he could not tell who was who. Except for Raphael. The youngest of the four planted his feet in front of his older brother and clamped onto his shoulders to keep Gabriel standing upright. “You’re going to be okay,” the redhead promised him. “It’s like you used to date. I look after you, you look after me.”

That had been eons ago. A promise of protection that had crashed and burned with Raphael-turned-Crawly. It had been made when Gabriel, still young himself, had been given the trembling hand of an even smaller angel with hair redder than fire and eyes like the stars. He was told by God herself that this was Raphael, that this was his brother, and a seed of something had been planted firmly inside Gabriel’s chest. He was no longer the youngest, the baby of the archangels, Raphael was and he was so new to everything. Gabriel promised the smaller boy his protection, his loyalty, his love...

“ _I’ll take care of you. You don’t ever have to worry about a thing. I’m here for you Raphael_.”

“ _Forever_?”  
  
“ _Forever_.”

Those were his words. Gabriel could hear them echoing over in the air but he was speaking. Raphael, Lucifer, and Michael’s hands were still on him, holding him up, when Gabriel felt something grab hold of his chest and suddenly he was jerked backwards into oblivion. The last thing Gabriel saw before going over the edge was his siblings screaming after him and reaching for him. The archangel shut his eyes and when he reopened them he was back in London, a knife in one hand and a crying baby in the other. Disabled demons lay across the room, shouting obscenities at him along with threats to rip him completely inside out. Gabriel wasn’t listening to them. Not due to ignorance but because their words ran through his ears like static. He couldn’t take his eyes away from Mercury, crying and growing more and more hysterical with each passing second. Those eyes...there were galaxies in those eyes...Raphael’s galaxies.

“My God....” Gabriel’s hands began to shake and he had no choice but to let the blade slip from his hand. He lifted Mercury up and rested him close to his chest. He was so tiny. So tiny and soft and trembling and it was all Gabriel’s fault. “Oh my God....”

Gabriel dropped to his knees, “What have I done....?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. This was one hell of a thing to write. The next two chapters should be a bit easier as they're a lot less plot heavy. I'm also going to be doing a list of who everyone was as an angel and revealing the other stories that will be coming out soon that take place in this universe. Until then enjoy!


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the LONG delay in this chapter but I just started university again and it has been crazy. Hopefully I will be able to get the epilogue out to you guys much sooner along with the list of future instalments in this little universe including when they should be out. Until then I hope you enjoy this chapter!

“You done crying?” Beelzebub asked and warned themself another round of loud wails in response. The Prince of Hell winced, “I’ll take that as a no.”

Gabriel stood in the kitchen, surrounded by demons and one pissed off angel, sobbing like a child who had just discovered that Santa Claus wasn’t real and his parents were getting a divorce. This symphony of misery was music to the soldiers of Hell who watched the archangel crumble in a mixture of smug pride and disgust for all that Gabriel had done. “I’m sorry...! I’m sorry! I’m sorry...”

Beelzebub had been waiting for Crowley to call it off but the serpent was unmoving and watched Gabriel cry with dead, blank eyes. He would have let the other man sob until Armageddon restarted but Beelzebub was a busy demon. They couldn’t stay this way forever. “Stop it!” They snapped and Gabriel choked back another sob. “As amusing as this was at first, I’m bored now. So why don’t we sit down like reasonable people and talk things out.”

Crowley said nothing but took a seat at the kitchen table and the others followed suit. Gabriel wiped his eyes off on his sleeve and went to the empty seat at the end near his former brother and Hastur. “Alright...”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Crowley asked and grabbed hold of the back of the chair so Gabriel could not move it out. 

“Sitting down.” Gabriel explained. 

“No. This is the whores section. You go over there at the end with the bitches.” 

Beside him Hastur gave a short nod of approval though it was completely unnecessary. Crowley throwing back the angel’s own words at him were enough to have Gabriel scrambling to the other end of the table where he would be less likely to be struck or set on fire. Manny and Eric, who had previously claimed that end of the table, both stood up and walked towards the more demonic end. They stopped behind Hastur and Crowley, a literal wall of beings more than willing to end Gabriel’s existence if he so much as _breathed_ out of line. Sitting unevenly spaces between the two polar ends were a principality, a prince, and a chameleon who looked like he would rather be anywhere else. Oh to return to the simple days when Ligur’s job consisted solely of lurking...

Beelzebub spoke first. It was common curtesy to let royalty speak first at these types of meetings so it came down to them and Gabriel. The archangel, still fighting back his own tears, was wise enough to sense that opening his mouth at this point in time would only result in a terrible, fiery death. He kept his mouth shut and looked down at his hands to avoid making eye-contact with several furious immortal beings. “So what did we learn from this?” 

“Not to kill babies...” Gabriel supplied weakly. “Even demonic babies.”

That seemed like a no-brainer to begin with but there was always one idiot who didn’t get the message. Beelzebub, regardless, was pleased with this response and leaned back against their chair. “I’m glad we’re in agreement.”

“There has to be a line somewhere.” Ligur piped up. Demons were sexual beings. They experimented with this type of shit all the time. It was cruel (and not the fun kind of cruel) to have everyone looking over their shoulders anytime a new little imp entered hell. “We do not kill babies.” Anything else was fair game in his multicoloured eyes _except_ for babies. Who said Hell couldn’t have standards?

“Except in cases of the divine plan,” Gabriel spoke. It was a controversial statement to make at this table but nonetheless a true one. “You know how sometimes there’s a car accident or something and the whole family-“

“No babies!” 

Aziraphale understood what Gabriel meant but also agreed that it was a troubling thought. He looked down at Mercury, sleeping calmly in his arms, and his heart ripped apart at the thought of anything ever happening to him. He could not imagine the pain any parent, human or demon or angel, would feel at loosing one so young. But sometimes it had to happen. “How about this; Heaven doesn’t kill Hell’s offspring and Hell doesn’t kill Heaven’s?” He suggested. 

“I’ll agree to that.” Violet eyes landed upon the sleeping form currently nestled comfortably in his father’s arms. Did Mercury even realize how close he had come to his own destruction? Gabriel sighed and that was enough for the snake seated at the opposite end of the table. 

“Stop looking at him!” Crowley hissed. Out of reflex or some duty to the treaty of Heaven and Hell Hastur clamped his hand down on the serpent’s shoulder and pulled him back into his seat. Restraints were not going to be enough to stop Crowley now though. The serpent hissed and thrashed, “You tried to kill him you don’t get to sit there and look all sad at him!”

“I’m sorry.” Was all the archangel could muster. 

“Sorry doesn’t cut it this time Gabriel.” Aziraphale responded. This wasn’t stealing a pack of gum or forgetting to turn off the lights when leaving a room. This was _infanticide. “_ You really don’t get it do you?”

Hastur tightened his grip around his fellow demon as Crowley continued to wriggle and thrash. “This was never about Mercury! It was about me! You’re still so angered over the fall that at the first chance to possibly hurt me you willed yourself to cause harm to an infant! You made yourself blind to downright common sense and that nearly cost my son’s life! What made you stop Gabriel?! Was it God finally smacking you upside the head for being so dumb?! Or was it something else?!”

Gabriel lowered his head and made the split second decision to spend the remainder of this conversation staring at his hands. “His eyes.” He mumbled. “I looked down and into his eyes and I saw...I saw...”

They got the picture. Well sort of. Gabriel’s story was striking a familiar chord and Ligur looked to his mate, “I thought you saw evil,” he said. “Back when this happened to you.” 

“I did.” Said Hastur. “Don’t know what’s gotten him all up and twisted.” 

“It wasn’t evil.” Gabriel insisted. “I know goodness and that was it! Pure, unfiltered, love and goodness and hope!”

“So what is he then?” Eric asked. “Good or evil?”

“Who cares?” Asked Beelzebub. “He is alive. And alive he will remain. Hell will protect him.” 

“Heaven will too.” Added the disgraced archangel. “Though I know not a force willing to challenge the two.” 

“Good.” Said Aziraphale. “If it’s all the same to you all then I believe it’s time people leave.”

“Understood.” Beelzebub was the first to rise and locked arms with Gabriel. The archangel slowly rose to his feet, careful to avoid making eye contact with anyone. He just wanted to leave. He just wanted the day to be over. “Come on you. I’m escorting you back to the terminal and while we’re walking me and you are going to pitch different ways you can make up for being such an utter shithead.” 

“Yes Sir.” Gabriel mumbled. 

Hastur and Ligur watched their boss escort their hereditary enemy out of the flat with mild interest. Everyone in Hell knew about their history and were taking bets on whether or not they would be the ones to destroy each other now they stood on opposite ends of the spectrum. They would leave a little later. Ligur had wanted to stop by that park that the human children loved in order to do a little extra lurking and who was Hastur to deny him that? His physical state had improved so much since his almost-destruction it was such a pleasure to see the chameleon operating at full strength once again. Manny rose to his feet and offered his arm to his companion, “Ready?” He asked. 

Eric pursed his lips together as he often did while thinking and looked from his boyfriend to the older demons sitting across the room and back to Manny. His brow knitted together in an obvious sign of confusion and he asked, “Did you really not catch on?”

“Catch on to what?” Manny asked.

Ligur’s eyes narrowed into a glare. He knew there was a reason he hated Asmodeus’ little shithead son. “You know.” He accused. How long had he known? And why, oh why, did he think it would be a funny idea not to mention it to the two demon Lords left in the dark?

“Ray Charles could see it.” Eric answered the older demon cooly. To him it had been completely obvious. “I mean he fucking looks like you.”

Manny looked from his boyfriend to Ligur trying to connect the dots. He couldn’t. “I don’t get what you’re implying.” 

“Me neither.” Hastur agreed. 

“Jesus...” Eric said with a groan and wiped some sweat from his brow. “Apple doesn’t fall far does it?”

“No, it does not.” Ligur mumbled in agreement. He stood up and signalled for the remaining demons to follow. It could do them all some good to go lurking in the park for a bit. You know, as a family. “Come on. We’ll explain on the way.” 

The second the remaining guests were out the door Crowley collapsed against the table in a fit of sobs. He had been exerting himself trying to keep it together, trying not to crack, but he didn’t care anymore. His throat still burned, the bruises around his neck were deep and ugly, and his heart was still beating a million miles a minute inside his chest. Aziraphale, with Mercury in tow, were beside him in a minute pulling the frazzled demon close and whispering comforting words into his ear. 

“It’s okay Love. It’s okay. It’s over. It’s all over.” 

Mercury started to whine sensing that his mother was distressed and this was finally enough to cause Crowley to look up. He wasted no time taking Mercury from his lover and holding him close to his chest. “He really does have a sixth sense.” The demon mused weakly. “Hello sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

Mercury simply nuzzled against Crowley in response warning himself a small smile from his mother. If they hadn’t almost just all _died_ Aziraphale’s heart may have melted at the sight, “Such a mama’s boy. It’s adorable.” 

“I need to get out of London.” Crowley said suddenly. 

“Where do you need to go?”

“Far from here. Somewhere...somewhere we can better protect him...Someplace safe.” 

“I understand. But what do we need to protect him from? Heaven and Hell have shown their support-“

Crowley shot his lover a look that had Aziraphale scrambling to explain himself, “I’m not disagreeing. I just don’t know who else would dare try and harm him.” 

“It’s hard to explain. You just need to trust me on this.” 

“I trust you.” Said Aziraphale. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Said Crowley. Upon realizing that he wasn’t the centre of attention from two seconds Mercury began whining again. His mother chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, followed by one from his father. “Needy little thing.”

“He takes after you.”

“What? I’m not needy.”

“I beg to differ.” 

~~~

A. Z. FELL AND CO. was closed. Not an unusual event for the little bookshop. It’s hours were fucking ridiculous and capable of driving away any sane patron. None of that mattered when you were an immortal Hell being, however. Without so much as a knock Beelzebub was able to let themself into the store. Aziraphale looked up from the book he was flipping through and grabbed the bookmark he had set nearby. Looks like he wasn’t going to be finishing this one today. 

“Hello.” The Prince of Hell said, “I come bearing one idiot.”

The door to the bookshop pushed open and a familiar face dressed from head to toe in off-white came inside. To Aziraphale’s alarm he happened to be carrying a wooden baseball bat in one hand. “Oh.” Beelzebub had better have a good explanation for this. “What is he doing here?”

Gabriel crossed the room and placed the bat down on top of the counter. “I have come to make amends.” He said and pushed the bat towards Aziraphale with the obvious intent of surrendering it. 

Amends for trying to murder his infant son in cold blood. Aziraphale strongly doubted anything Gabriel said or did was going to make up for that but with Beelzebub there ministering the bastard he was more than willing to see what Gabriel thought would be more than enough to make up for it, “I’m listening.” 

Beelzebub left the two largely to their conversation and paced between the shelves. They noticed there were a lot more boxes cluttering the isles than before. Was this another one of the principality’s techniques to avoid actually having to part with his books or something else? Beelzebub stopped at the end of an isle and noticing the first edition hardcovers contained in one ready to be sealed box asked, “Are you selling the bookstore?”

“No.” Aziraphale could never bare to part with this place. His home, his sanctuary, his little slice of heaven tucked away in what was, in his humble upon, the greatest city in the world. Not to mention if he were to suddenly sell it might give the wrong idea to the crowds of developers and thugs who had at one point or another tried to bully the principality into closing his doors. No. Even if he didn’t love the shop to his core Aziraphale could never sell purely out of spite. Though Aziraphale would admit that he was looking forward to taking in the country air. “Crowley and I are renting a place in South Downs for a bit. Just to get out of the city?”

“How long is a bit?”

“Until Mercury starts school.” Aziraphale explained. “In the meantime Anathema and Newt are happy to keep an eye on the shop and flat.” 

“And the human children?”

“Are still being tutored by Crowley and are doing quite well.” 

The stairs leading up to the flat creaked under the weight of someone as they made their descent. In the past few months there had been a lot of activity, demons and humans and children coming and going, but now there were only two. Gabriel took a sharp inhale of breath to keep from loosing his nerve. There was no turning back now. He had to do this. Crowley appeared at the bottom of the stairs, Mercury rested on his hip, “Aziraphale who’s-“ Gabriel internally panicked and offered a small wave that did nothing to quell any growing anxiety Crowley had about his presence. “Oh.”

In the blink of an eye Beelzebub closed the gap between them and the baby and his mother. “Hey Mercury!” The Prince said with a grin. “Look at you! Getting so big and handsome!”

“You’re going to give him an ego.” Crowley informed the Prince with an eye roll. True or false the steady stream of compliments was eventually going to go to the tyke’s head. How would that translate when he became a teenager? Oh Lord it was going to be Warlock all over again...

“I will not.”

“Look at Gabriel.” Lot of good Beelzebub’s constant stream of compliments did there. Speak of the devil, Gabriel had begun to walk towards them. Not in a menacing way; nothing about the laid back, hands in pockets approach would strike a casual observer as threatening but it was enough to make Crowley’s blood run cold. His grip around Mercury tightened and he angled himself to put as much distance between the approaching angel and his son as possible. “Stop right there!” He snapped. 

Gabriel froze and threw his hands up to show that he was unarmed. “What?” The angel asked. 

“Stay. There.” Crowley barked, his eyes flickering a dangerous firey tint. His brother was an idiot, of that Crowley was justly sure, but if he thought that he could just walk up to Mercury as though he had every right to be there and then get offended and ask for an explanation when Crowley told him to keep his distance then he had to have been created without a single goddamn braincell and been functioning off his egotism alone. 

Crowley risked turning his gaze past Gabriel and Beelzebub to his angel. Over the centuries he had learned to read Aziraphale and even though there had been more than a few moments in time where the angel’s naivety had gotten him into a scrap of too he knew better than this. There had to have been a reason to let this bastard into their home _willingly_ and Crowley expected him to reveal it. Aziraphale looked about unimpressed with the situation as Crowley felt and was leaning against the counter with his arms folded in front of his chest. “Gabriel is here to make amends.” He explained and Crowley could practically feel the annoyance at having once again been disturbed by the messenger angel oozing out of every word. 

“Oh is he now? And just how is he going do that.”

~~~

“This is stupid.” Aziraphale said for the fifteenth time. “Why are we doing this?”

Gabriel was lucky that the angel & demon were in the process of a move or else they all would have had to relocate to the roof to exact their vengeance. Certainly Aziraphale would never allow such reckless activities to take place in the shop itself where dozens of booms stood the chance of being damaged and it was a gamble to attempt it in the flat itself but seeing as most of their breakables had already been boxed up in bubble wrap he allowed it. But allowing the love of his life to beat his former superior (who also happened to be his lover’s brother) with a baseball bat in what used to be their living room and approving of the activity were two distinctly different things. 

The archangel stood in the centre of the room, arms spread out, while Crowley stood across from him with provided baseball bat in hand. Aziraphale leaned against the far wall both refusing to participate but also to leave out of obligation to Beelzebub. The Prince of Hell didn’t want to see this. Aziraphale did not blame them. No one wanted to see someone they once cared for get beaten with a bat but Beelzebub wanted to ensure that Gabriel survived his latest encounter with the serpent of Eden. So there stood Aziraphale, watching and waiting for the first blow. 

Crowley was smiling a feral grin so large that all of his teeth were proudly on display. He was almost salivating at the thought of what was to come next. “Are you kidding? This is the best idea he’s had in years!” 

“Okay. Let me have it.” Gabriel shut his eyes and waited. And waited. And waited. When roughly five minutes had passed without the first blow he dared to open them again. Crowley hadn’t moved. He remained frozen in place, gripping his bat, ready to strike, but he wasn’t. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you thwacking me?

“Why are you doing this?” Crowley asked his voice far softer, far quieter than it had been since all of this began. 

“I did something...a lot of things that are unforgivable. I don’t want forgiveness. I want my family back. _All_ of my family.”

An interesting sentiment but good luck pulling it off. Crowley snorted a laugh at the idea of their oldest brother showing up to the _family reunion_ or how their sister would react to all of this. “Yeah right. You wanna be the one to make the call to Lucifer?” 

“I will.” Gabriel said softly. “I just miss my brothers...”

“If you miss us so damn much why did you try to kill me and Mercury?!” Crowley fired back and Gabriel quickly looked away. Fucking coward! He couldn’t even face up to his own actions! Crowley’s hands started to grow hot and he could feel a fire igniting inside of him. No more running. No more hiding. He was ending this now one way or another! “C’mon Gabriel! You want forgiveness you better start talking! Why did you-“

Gabriel’s head jerked up so he could meet his brother’s gaze and Crowley could now see the fat tears forming in the corners of his violet eyes. **_“B_** ** _ECAUSE I FAILED YOU!”_** He shouted. “I was supposed to keep you safe and I failed you!” 

Crowley fell silent. The fire that had been steadily building inside of him weathered and burned out cooling the demon off but Gabriel wasn’t done. He wiped his eyes off on his sleeve and continued. 

“I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t protect Lucifer. I couldn’t protect Akriel...All I could do was watch you fall further and further away...” He could still see their faces when he closed his eyes. The terror as suddenly the heavens shook beneath their feet and gave out, the screams of agony, the smell of burning feathers and flesh. Lucifer had looked him. Had looked his younger brother dead in the eyes as he fell. How many times did Gabriel have to stand before his mirror and convince himself that Lucifer had called him out, had given him a final glare of revolution and hatred before falling when he knew that he had seen sorrow and the faintest glimmer of remorse. He couldn’t tell the others. No one would believe him. And he’d fall too...

“You were always the best of us! Lucifer...he was my older brother! I was _designed_ to look up to him from my creation!” How many memories of Lucifer leading him around the heavens when he was still new did Gabriel block from his mind after the fairest of the archangels fell? How many lessons erased, conversations lost? Gabriel had tried to scrub his mind completely free of his older brother. His older brother who had, at one point, been his idol. For that matter how many angels in the heavens had wished to aspire to Lucifer’s level before his fall? And then there was the Prince of Hell to be. “Akriel...my love...my heart has not accepted another in the centuries since the fall and still aches for them...”

Gabriel tried not to think about his dear Akriel but it was impossible with the shell of them lurking around every corner. His Akriel, soft and comforting, radiating warmth, was dead. Dead and milder into something cold and sharp. What he wouldn’t give just to be able to embrace his Akriel again. “And you. My Raphael. I never thought that you could do wrong. That any of you could do wrong.” Gabriel had been blind. Every time he saw Raphael all he could see was the baby faced angel that used to grab onto the back of his robes to catch his attention and who looked up to Gabriel with big starry eyes. He was selectively blind to the seeds of doubt planted deep within his brother’s heart, blooming into full on rebelliousness. He never saw it in any of them. Not until their names were on his list. And while part of Gabriel’s mind soothed him with lines about how he couldn’t have stopped it, another part always wondered what would have happened if he had _just opened his fucking eyes_. “I was supposed to protect you all and I failed.”

There was a soft thud as the bat bounced off the floor. Crowley watched it roll away and stop at the foot of one of the chairs. Gabriel looked from his brother to the bat in confusion. What did this mean? Did Crowley mean to use his fists instead? Before the archangel could properly plot out a defence strategy he felt a pair of arms snake around his abdomen. Gabriel looked down and there was Crowley, “This isn’t forgiveness.” The snake told him. “You had your hands around my throat. You tried to burn the love of my life into nonexistence. You tried to kill my baby. But...Its a start.” 

~~~

Family drama wasn’t something Beelzebub _longed_ to involve themself in. That coupled with the fact that someone needed to be watching Mercury while his parents went to town on his uncle meant that the Prince of Hell had the fortunate excuse to leave and tend to the child. 

“I hope you’re good with kids in the future because at some point in time I want to have a million of you.” And someone had to babysit and Beelzebub was not about to hand their precious fictional little one over to the legions of Hell. Maybe Crowley, maybe Aziraphale; they seemed to know what they were doing but no one else. No one else but the little imp Beelzebub was currently fawning over. “Well, not you specifically. A million babies.”

Mercury was a good listener. That may have had something to do with the fact that he could not speak yet himself and therefore could not interrupt. That would change all too quickly and if he was anything like his parents then the problem would lay in getting the boy to shut up. For the moment, however, he was more than content to let his uncle carry him around the room and sway him gently in their arms. Mercury reached up and tried to touch Beelzebub’s face and the demon happily obliged. Babies needed to feel things to learn and the Prince of Hell had learned long ago not to wear their more diseased disguise around the little ones. The skin Mercury felt under his palm was smooth and soft and untouched by anyone other than Beelzebub in nearly 6000 years. I guess you could say the Prince of Hell had a soft spot for the boy. Beelzebub cringed at the very thought of the pun and sighed wistfully, “Oh lord child what have you done to me.” 

“Bee.”

“Yeah, Uncle Bee needs to work their shit out.” Could Beelzebub say shit in front of Mercury or was that one of the words Aziraphale had banned? The fly needed to write this down at some point or they were going to keep forget-... “Wait. What did you just say?”

“Bee!” Mercury repeated. “Bee! Bee! Bee! Bee! Bee!”

“Bee?!” Beelzebub’s voice cracked against their will. “Bee!”

From the other room the voice of the serpent called our, “Just swat the damn thing Beelzebub! We’re having a moment in here!”

“Don’t let it sting Mercury!” Aziraphale added. 

Idiots. Beelzebub charged at the door and nearly knocked it off its hinges as they burst into the other room, baby in tow. If it had been anyone else Crowley and Aziraphale may have said something about the destruction to their flat but it was better for all parties to just let Beelzebub do their thing. Beelzebub gave no second thought to the door and held Mercury up triumphantly for all to see, “No! No! Not a real bee! Watch!” They pointed at themself. “Mercury who is this?”

“Bee?” Mercury asked, tilting his little head to the side. He clearly had no idea why everyone was making such a fuss about this. 

“Bee!” Beelzebub exclaimed. “His first word is Bee!”

“Wow!” Said Gabriel and the archangel dared to get a closer look. Aziraphale and Crowley said nothing but watched carefully. It would surprise neither of them for Gabriel to have pulled all of this off as some trick to finish his task. “Can we try Gabriel next? Uncle Bee, Uncle Gabriel?”

“Gabriel your name is too damn complicated for him.” Replied the Prince of Hell, “Can you say Gabe Mercury?”

“I don’t like that.”

“Too bad. Gabe or nothing.”

Mercury looked between the angel and the demon with a growing boredom. “Bee.” He said in a way that could have been interpreted as defiant if he weren’t so young. 

Across the room Crowley slide over beside Aziraphale and whispered into his ear, “Do you want to be the one to tell them that he already said his first words or should I?”

“Do not.” Aziraphale warned him. Beelzebub had been awfully good to them as of late and they were so happy...the principality didn’t want to break that spirit. Even if Mercury had been saying ‘Dada’ long before he started saying ‘Bee’.


	20. Epilogue

It was an unusually hot day for February in London. The lingering coats and winter jackets had been tossed aside in favor of t-shirts and shorts as citizens took to the streets to celebrate the seemingly overnight disappearance of any remaining snow. St. James's Park was once again bustling with young people as families took in the warm weather and let the children out to play without fear of losing any more mittens or hats. Couples sat together on the benches, sharing ice creams and exchanging quick, chaste kisses with the promises of more passionate ones to come later when the sunset. Joggers were free to once again strap on their sneakers and armbands and complete their runs around the park. With half of the population of the metropolis enjoying the strange weather and occupying the park, no one paid the growing party gathered in one small corner of St. James's much mind and anyone who did cast the group a second glance saw nothing more than a normal family setting up for a normal birthday party. Had a third glance been spared, maybe one or two passersby would have noticed the strange appearances of the guests or caught the scent of brimstone and sulfur wafting over. 

One woman out for a morning jog passed a couple pushing a stroller on their way to join the group and slowed her run. She didn't know the men personally but she had seen them around the park before, usually occupying the same bench over by the pond, and made the habit of saying hello to them whenever they crossed paths. The older of the two men, an icey blond man who had to be in his early fifties and who reminded the woman of a soft marshmallow, spotted her first and offered her a pleasant wave, "Morning .” 

“Morning.” the woman replied with a smile. Her eyes fell upon the sleeping form tucked away inside the stroller. The little tyke was blissfully sleeping away the remainder of the morning without a care in the world. He had the same icey hair as the older man and though she couldn't explain exactly why it made her heart flutter, it did. “Aww. What a little angel.” 

The older man's partner, a man who appeared to be his contrast in every sense of the word, chuckled. “Only half.” he corrected her. 

~~~

Anathema had to text Crowley directions in order for them to find the exact tucked away little spot the others decided to set up for the day. Heaven forbid anyone in their little circle of friends have to wait for an hour for the birthday boy to arrive. No, Beelzebub had insisted on arriving and setting up early to ensure that they got the perfect spot for Mercury's first birthday. Aziraphale had tried to explain to the Prince that it was unlikely that he would even remember this day centuries from now but his argument had fallen upon deaf ears. They were the last to arrive and Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief at the sight before them. Everything was in one piece,  “Well it looks as though no one has burned the place down yet.”

“Yet.” Crowley emphasized. “Don’t rule out the stupidity of these people just yet Angel.” 

Madame Tracey had volunteered to bake the cake and Newt had promised to bring drinks and cutlery. They had parked Dick Turpin not far from their entrance to the park in order to make things easier but were still struggling to hold onto everything as Anathema scrambled to get the folding table she had brought along out from the trunk of the car. " Looks like Anathema could use a little help. I’ll be right back.” Crowley said and let go off the handles for Mercury's stroller, handing them over to his partner, and jogging over to help their human friends out. 

Mercury was still asleep and Aziraphale didn't want to wake him up just yet and risk him spending his birthday cranky over having missed every opportunity to sleep so the principality waited for Crowley to return and took in the scene around him. Never did he imagine he would ever, in his immortal existence, be attending a birthday party for his child alongside demons, the Prince of Hell, and Lucifer himself but there he was and there they were. A party attended by a mixture of both humans and demons in almost equal distribution with only two angels in attendance. Aziraphale also never imagined that he would be more happy to see Beelzebub there than the only other angel there. Speaking of which...

“Hello!” Aziraphale didn't see the archangel coming. He simply turned his head to the left and suddenly Gabriel was there, present in hand, which he was quick to hand off to the principality with a proud grin. “I did not know what babies like so I got him a book. If he can’t use it now then he can use it later!”

“Thank you Gabriel. That’s actually-“ Aziraphale froze when he saw the title of the book he had been handed. “Gabriel do you know what this book is?”

“No! I can’t read!”

“Okay.” Did his voice crack when saying that? Aziraphale couldn't tell. The principality forced a smile that would have clearly been fake to anyone with half a brain, so luckily it was enough to fool his former superior, “Thank you for the gift Gabriel. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it very much when he gets older.”

Quite obviously pleased with himself Gabriel nodded in self-approval and, having captured a glimpse of Beelzebub out of the corner of his eye, lost all interest in his former underling and pranced off to go have a word with his former lover leaving Aziraphale there clutching a piece of pulp trash that he would rather submit to the shredder than hold onto for a second longer. It was at this moment Crowley returned to his side and peered over his shoulder at the novel,  “ _Fifty Shades of Grey_?” he read off. Hardly seemed like the type of thing his angel would be interested in. Aziraphale paled and quickly tucked the book underneath the stroller where it would not be seen. 

“Your brother is illiterate.” He informed his lover in a rushed voice. He was starting to feel faint... “I think I have to sit down for a while.”

Crowley rolled his eyes behind his trademark sunglasses, “There’s one in every family. My side just happens to be...them.” 

Them being the literal first fallen angel and an illiterate egotist. Aziraphale rubbed his temples feeling a headache coming on. “What’s Lucifer doing?” He hoped that someone had been keeping an eye on him. Ever since Gabriel had called to inform them a few nights ago that the eldest brother would be in attendance at his nephew's birthday party Aziraphale had been growing increasingly anxious. It wasn't that he believed that Lucifer would dare try anything during his time on the surface world it was just that he was...well...Lucifer! He couldn't exactly be trusted. 

The demon in question had taken over a park bench and was giving a lecture to the Them and Warlock who sat crossed leg on the grass surrounding his feet. Mr. Shadwell stood behind him, hanging off of every word. “I believe he’s giving a lecture to the children on how to avoid paying taxes." Said Crowley though his lipreading skills had grown rusty in the past century so he could be off a smidge. 

“Oh no.” That could only end in disaster. Aziraphale was able to take some comfort in the fact that Lucifer finally seemed to be getting along with humans though. “They seem happy.” 

“They do.” Crowley agreed. “I’m worried about this emerging friendship with Mr. Shadwell though. They'll take over the world together if we're not careful.”

"Oh, look Madame Tracey would let him do that." Hastur, Ligur, Eric, and Manny had decided to stand off to the side near the treeline and were talking about something that Aziraphale could not make out. Lurking maybe? They all enjoyed a good lurk. As it would turn out Aziraphale had no need to offer his services to the frog demon in order to reconnect with his missing son. They were able to do it all on their own and now they were making up for the lost time. In hindsight, it should have been more obvious. The similarities and resemblance between Manny and his parents were astounding. “I’m happy for them. I don’t recall ever seeing Ligur or Hastur actually smile before.”

Crowley nodded in agreement, “And Beelzebub looks positively...well positive.” 

The Prince of Hell was busy entertaining Gabriel at the moment but it would not be long before they realized that their beloved nephew had arrived and then every ounce of their attention would be devoted towards Mercury. Crowley watched as his superior became lost in conversation with their ex.lover and the thought occurred to him that perhaps Beelzebub wouldn't notice their arrival for some time. Gabriel had always been skilled at keeping the lord of the flies' attention fixed solely upon himself, even without intending to. 

“Have you heard much through your side?” The serpent asked. “I know that Michael is still sleeping. I am looking forward to seeing her again.”

“I’m not. She tried to kill you, Crowley.”

“Who hasn’t?” The list was long and sure to grow as time marched onwards. “I don’t plan on forgiving her upon sight. I just want to see her again in a setting where we are not at each other’s throats.”

“That would be nice.”

Crowley's eyes fell upon the Them still hanging off of his older brother's every word as he told them the vast loopholes that they could exploit to expertly navigate the system and come out on top. Adam had gotten his ears pierced, done by none other than Warlock Dowling, and two little skull-shaped studs decorated his ears. Wensleydale hit a growth spurt and was no longer the shortest of the group, now towering over both Pepper and Adam. Pepper had recently gotten into her mother about sleeping over at Brian's house and had told Crowley all about it. Apparently her mother objected to her attending sleepovers with her friends now that she was _getting older_ and that _boys were only thinking about one thing now_. Pepper was able to win the argument when she pointed out that her mother had literally spent _years_ as a member of a hippie communion and they still weren't one hundred percent certain who her father was and that they were all still doing fine as a family (Crowley gave her a chocolate and a head pat for that one). Lately, Brian had been spending more and more time chatting with some boy in Chicago he had met through a chatroom. Though he still accompanied his friends on all of their adventures, every couple minutes of so he would produce his phone from his pocket in order to send along some update to his new American friend. The other members of the Them weren't bothered by this recent development and simply referred to this phenomenon as _Brian messaging his boyfriend_. Warlock was currently in an argument with his parents about whether or not he should continue his private school education or transfer to public school to join his friends. Mr and Mrs Dowling were trying to convince him to wait until high school and that it was only a few years away but Warlock rightfully saw that as them just trying to push the matter off. They were all growing before the serpent's very eyes and as much as Crowley wanted to see the fine young men and women they grew into, he was going to miss the ragtag band of children who played in the woods and made up their own little games.  “Do you ever wish that time would just stop?”

Aziraphale understood exactly what his lover was speaking about and exactly why he felt this way. Though he didn't express it himself, the principality felt the same way. “The children are getting older...soon all that naivety and idealism will be gone. Except for Warlock. I don’t think he was born with any.” 

“Adam will be thirteen soon. Hard to believe.” Crowley added. “And it was an entire year ago that I was ready to throttle that annoying sister.”

“I found her to be quite pleasant.”

“You would.” 

“You know what I’ve been thinking about?" Aziraphale asked. 

“What?”

“What _i_ _s_ Mercury?” The big question. The elephant in the room. The one thing they never found the answer to after everything that they had gone through with both heaven and hell. “Is he good or evil?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps he is both or perhaps he is neither.” Crowley tried not to think about it. It was easier for him to just go with the flow and handle things as they progressed. Maybe things would become clearer as Mercury's powers progressed. “...Maybe what he was able to show Hastur and Gabriel was some defense mechanism. L ike what some animals have?”

“Possibly.  That seems too complicated for a baby though.” Aziraphale said with a sigh.  “I just can’t help but wonder which side benefits more from his birth. Heaven or Hell.”

“That's easy. Our side.” Crowley replied with a grin and leaned in to press a kiss to his lover's cheek. “The chaotic side.” 

“I do like the sound of that.”

~~~

A couple yards away and successfully hidden behind a row of evergreens the woman from that morning watched the party unfurl before her eyes. She watched the children listening intently to an older man all in black, along with a Scottish man she remembered once seeing protesting the existence of witches. It appeared as though he had finally evened out. Good; only took nearly sixty years. The woman watched a smaller individual, always entirely black, take the baby from his stroller and carry them around on their hip as his parents spoke with their friends and enjoyed the festivities. Two younger men, boyfriends if the smaller of the two hanging off the one with the mohawk's arm was any indication, spoke with two older men who had to be married. The handholding was a dead giveaway. All and all everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves and getting along famously. Not bad considering how close all of this had come to ending. 

"Lord?" A familiar voice called out through the woman's ear. "Are you there Lord?"

Though the woman stood alone no one in here proximity reacted to hearing the man speak. No one else could hear him. One of the benefits that came with being the creator of anything and everything in existence; the privacy was spectacular. "I am. Go ahead Metatron."

"Oh it's nothing too major Lord. I just have some requests from some of the Cheribum to have a word with you. It seems that they don't know how to proceed on Earth at the moment..."

"I will be home shortly. Let the Cherubs know I will speak with them then."

"Yes my Lord."

The woman tucked her hands into the pockets of her shorts and started walking towards the park exit. She looked back once over her shoulder, just to get a final glimpse at the party and at the family that had finally come together. Beelzebub, the Prince of Hell, was helping the archangel Gabriel lift his nephew onto his shoulders; Hastur and Ligur were speaking with their son and his boyfriend, about what she could not hear but it did not matter, what mattered was that they were finally able to speak again; Lucifer and Shadwell were enjoying their time with the Them and Warlock; Anathema and Madame Tracey were trying to cut equal pieces of the cake that the former psychic had baked herself for just this occasion while Newt tried to secure himself a corner piece; and watching over all of this was the angel and the demon who had fought so hard to make this moment happen, with a little bit of undetected help of course. 

She would say it all worked out in the end. It was, after all, ineffable. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Twenty chapters and over 50,000 words later and we're here! I want to thank everybody for reading and Mitsuki81 for drawing an amazing comic of Gabriel's vision a few chapters back. It's really great and you can check it out here: https://mitsuki-81.tumblr.com/post/187290582634/good-omens-fan-art-hell-spawn-part-1
> 
> So where do we go from here? I have a couple different oneshots and a sequel planned that I hope to have out soon. So what can you expect...  
> Before the Fall: A quick oneshot of everyone in heaven before the fall. It will include Michael playing wingman for Ligur and helping him ask Hastur out, Aziraphale meeting Crowley for the first time, and Gabriel and Beelzebub being cute. Also Lucifer gets to be a cool big brother for his little bros so there's that to look forward to.  
> Catholic Studies: A teenage Mercury hijacks a group of little demons learning about the fall and tells them famous bible stories his way so he may be letting some biases come through.  
> Little Blessings: The official sequel to Hell Spawn. Set roughly four years after the end of Hell Spawn, Beelzebub and Gabriel run into each other at a bar while investigating some business on Earth. One thing leads to another and soon the pair are unexpectedly forced together to try and repair their damaged relationship.  
> A third installment and sequel to Little Blessings is also in the works but more on that later as I'm still working out bits of the plot. 
> 
> Finally, a quick chart that I promised you guys and should have included earlier. The demons and their roles in Heaven before the fall:  
> Crowley - Raphael; You know why I made Crowley Raphael. Everyone makes Crowley Raphael. It's pretty much canon at this point. Youngest of the four archangel siblings, the healer who hung the stars, and who should have really stopped listening to his older brother Lucifer's advice before it was too late.  
> Beelzebub - Akriel; Akriel is an angel who protects children, pregnant mothers, and the unborn. Given I knew from their introduction that I wanted Beez to be just smitten with Mercury, I thought it would be fitting for them to have a past as an angel associated with motherhood and babies. Also that's a super sweet thing to have dominion over. I get how an archangel would be impressed/interested by that.  
> Ligur - Jehoel; Jehoel is an angel who is close to the archangel Michael and given their connection in the show having already been established it made sense to me. Michael's kind of a...sneaky rebellious person in the fact that they look like the prim and proper "good child" but would secretly be sneaking around. I could see her maintaining contact with her old buddy despite him falling. Also I love the idea of her and Ligur just being complete and utter bros.  
> Hastur - Raziel; Raziel is the angel of secrets and rainbows. Okay, cool, Hastur has some secrets. Makes sense. But get this...rainbows. Hell is this bleak, colorless place and Hastur chooses to hang around the only source of bright colors within the whole place. In this canon that's because Ligur /choose/ a chamelon as his demonic form, he wanted his mate to be able to see some of the colors he helped create. I thought that would be really sweet and kinda highlight how in love/devoted to each other they are. Also Ligur sometimes calls Hastur "Haz" but when they were angels he'd call him "Raz"...a lot of my decision to make Hastur be Raziel stems from Ligur being an awesome husband...
> 
> So that's it for now. Thanks for reading everybody!
> 
> ...Quick question before I go. Did that note I attached to the prologue appear at the end of every chapter? Part of me thinks it's just my laptop glitching but I'm not sure.

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone else really love Hastur for some reason? He’s like my second favorite character from this show. Maybe I just have a thing for demons...


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